Tjf*1*^  TT"^       ^"SL-'W  W"^l    JF 
OR.CHY 


SEWELL    FOR.D 


TRYING  OUT  TOUCHY 


DP  CALIF.  LIBRARY,  LOS  ANGELES 


THEN  VEE  HESITATES  AND  SMILES  DOWN  AT  ME. 


TRYING  OUT 
TORGHY 

BY 

SEWELL  FORD 

AUTHOR  OF 
TORCHY,  ODD  NUMBERS,  ETC. 


ILLUSTRATED  BY 

FOSTER  LINCOLN 


«s* 


N  EW    YORK 

GROSSET    &    DUNLAP 

PUBLISHERS 


COFYRIGHT,  1911,  1912,  BT 

SEWELL   FORD 


COPYRIGHT,  1912,  BT 
EDWARD    J.   CLODB 


CONTENTS 


6HAPTKE 

I.  THE  ACID  TEST  FOB  BEKTIE 

EL  WHEN  ALGY  WAS  IN  LINE  . 

III.  TRYING  A  WIZARD  STUNT    . 

IV.  UNDER  WAY  WITH  UNCLE  ROD  . 
V.  SHOWING  TEEDY  THE  DITCH 

VI.  SCORING  UP  ONE  FOR  TOOTS  BOY 

VII.  A  BOOST  FOR  THE  BENOS     . 

VIII.  HELPING  OUT  AT  A  SPLICE  FEST 

IX.  GETTING  FROM  UNDER 

X.  STRIKING  A  LEVEL  ON  LAMMA-LU 

XI.  PIDDIE  GETS  ONE  OFF  THE  BAT 

XII.  A  LATE  SCORE  FOR  VANDY 

XIII.  TORCHY'S  BONEHEAD  HUNCH 

XIV.  CATCHING  A  SIGNAL 

XV.  How  OLD  HICKORY  CAME  BACK  . 

XVI.  SPEEDING  UP  UNCLE  ANDY  . 

XVII.  A  KICK  IN  BY  TORCHY 

XVIII.  PICKING  UP  A  FRIEND  . 

XIX.  How  THE  GLORY  BE  CAME  BACK 


2129599 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


THEN  VEE  HESITATES  AND  SMILES  DOWN  AT  ME   .    Frontispiece 

FACING 
PAGE 

"You  CAN  BEHAVE  NICE  AT  TIMES,"  SAYS  VEE     .       .      19 


"GKEETINGS!"  SAYS  I.    "WHAT'S  THE  NEWS  FROM  Tni- 

BUCTU?" 59 

A  CASE  OF  WHICH  COULD  SPBINT  FASTER  .  .  .160 
WE  GET  A  GREETING  LIKE  A  FOOTBALL  TACKLE  .  .  238 
SAPPY  STANDS  THERE  WITH  His  MOUTH  STILL  OPEN  303 


TRYING  OUT  TORCH Y 

CHAPTER  I 

THE  ACID  TEST  FOR  BERTIE 

I  AIN'T  denyin'  it,  nor  I  ain't  goin'  hoarse 
tryin'  to  prove  it,  either.  Maybe  I  am  the 

highest  salaried  office  boy  in  the  business; 
and  then  again —  Well,  all  I  got  to  say  is  that 
when  I  ain't  worth  what  I  draw  down  on  Sat- 
urday I  want  'em  to  give  me  the  chuck.  And 
I'd  hand  that  out  to  the  whole  Board  of  Di- 
rectors as  quick  as  I'd  whisper  it  to  Piddie. 

For  if  anyone  thinks  this  is  a  rest  cure  job 
of  mine,  sittin'  here  behind  the  brass  gate  and 
passin'  offhand  on  who  to  let  in  and  who  to  keep 
out,  I'd  like  to  see  'em  turn  the  trick.  Any- 
way, it  calls  for  something  you  can't  work  out 
by  any  set  of  rules,  or  learn  at  a  business  col- 
lege. And  you  can't  go  by  your  feelin's,  either. 
Why,  there's  some  I  have  to  bar  out  that  I'd 
like  to  slide  through,  and  there's  others  I  have 
to  throw  the  switch  for  prompt  and  smilnr 
when  if  I  had  my  way  they'd  get  the  sudden 
shunt. 


2  TRYING  OUT  TOBCHY 

But  bein'  foxy  Freddie  at  one  game  don't 
qualify  you  to  kick  in  at  'em  all,  does  it? 
Every  once  in  a  while  I  discover  that  all  over 
again.  Here  the  other  day  was  a  sample,  when 
I  went  up  against  it  good  and  hard. 

It  wa'n't  Vee's  fault,  anyway.  I  was  tryin* 
to  play  a  scratch  infield  hit  for  a  three-bagger, 
I  expect,  and  I  used  more  speed  than  sense. 
But,  say,  when  I  finds  she  and  Aunty  has  lo- 
cated temporary  in  some  friend's  apartment  up 
on  Riverside  Drive,  and  I'd  called  her  up  on  the 
'phone  just  to  ask  how  she  was  gettin'  along, 
and  she  sort  of  hints  that  Saturday  P.M.  around 
six  or  so  she  might  be  either  comin'  in  or  goin' 
out,  why — well,  I  was  there. 

It's  one  of  these  swell  new  joints  with  only 
a  carriage  entrance,  ten  stories,  central  court 
with  real  rubber  trees,  lily  pond  almost  as  big 
as  a  dinin'  room  table,  and  so  on.  There's  a 
couple  of  near- Venetian  stone  seats  around  the 
pond,  and  after  I'd  bluffed  the  carriage  opener 
by  askin'  if  Aunty  had  left  any  word  for  me,  I 
remarks  that  I  guessed  I'd  better  wait,  and 
camps  down  where  I  can  get  a  view  in  at  the 
elevator. 

Course,  I  was  lookin'  for  Miss  Vee  to  appear 
casual,  and  I'd  framed  up  a  cozy  little  chat  there 
in  the  court,  or  maybe  a  short  stroll  down  the 
drive  with  her.  Why  not?  Anyway,  I  was  in  a 
real  sociable  frame  of  mind  and  wa'n't  takin' 


THE  ACID  TEST  FOE  BERTI&        & 

any  special  notice  of  the  taxis  and  victorias 
comin'  and  goin',  but  was  just  indulgin'  in  rosy 
dreams  and  keepin'  one  ear  stretched  for  a 
friendly  hail,  when  all  of  a  sudden  I  feels  a 
tap  on  my  shoulder  from  behind. 

' '  Oh,  you !  ' '  says  I,  kittenish.  ' '  Wonder  if 
I  can  guess?  '* 

And  with  that  I  swings  around.  Miss  Vee! 
Nothing  of  the  kind — Aunty !  Uh-huh !  Aunty, 
with  her  gold  lorgnette  up  to  her  eyes  and  her 
mouth  corners  set  stern.  She  ain't  a  very 
folksy  old  party  at  her  best ;  but  when  she  gets 
on  that  high  society  stare,  and  humps  her  eye- 
brows, she  sure  is  a  frigid  proposition.  For 
throwin'  off  sparks,  though,  she's  a  real  live 
wire. 

"  Well,  young  man?  "  says  she. 

"  Ye-es'm,"  says  I,  grinnin'  foolish. 

"  I  was  told  by  the  carriage  man  that  you 
were  waiting  to  see  me,"  she  goes  on. 

"  He's  a  wonder,  he  is,"  says  I.  "  Must 
have  had  that  on  his  mind  all  of  ten  minutes, 
too.  If  I  had  a  memory  like  that,  I'd — " 

"  Evidently  you  haven't,"  breaks  in  Aunty 
sarcastic,  "  and  if  you  still  remember  your  er- 
rand perhaps  you  will  state  it  at  once." 

"  Why,"  says  I,  throwin'  in  the  high  speed 
thought  gear,  "  I  just  dropped  around,  you 
know,  to — to  see  if — if  you  got  your  trunks  and 
things  up  from  the  steamer  all  right  that  day." 


ft  TRYING  OUT  TOECHY 

"  Steamer!  "  says  Aunty.  "  Why,  that  was 
weeks  ago  and —  Oh !  Now  I  place  you.  You 
are  the  young  person  who  met  Miss  Ellins — the 
one  Verona  told  me  about?  " 

"  Sounds  like  a  complete  description," 
says  I. 

Aunty  almost  smiles  and  puts  on  a  knowin* 
look.  "  Perhaps,"  says  she,  "  you  would  pre- 
fer to  make  further  inquiries  of  my  niece!  " 

"  I  wouldn't  dodge  it,"  says  I,  "if  it's  all 
the  same  to  you." 

"  Why,  to  be  sure,"  says  Aunty.  "  She  will 
be  here  in  a  moment.  I  dropped  them  at  the 
florist's  and —  Here  they  are  now !  Pardon  me 
if  I  don't  wait." 

And  I  should  have  suspicioned  something  of 
the  kind  the  minute  Aunty  turned  so  oily. 
"  They  "  consists  of  Miss  Vee  and  a  him.  And 
he — well,  I  hate  to  knock  a  perfect  stranger; 
but,  honest,  all  I  could  think  of  was  an  upper 
case  I  with  feet.  He's  one  of  these  satisfied, 
contented  big  stiffs  that  can't  seem  to  forget 
the  image  in  the  glass, — not  just  a  Percy  boy, 
understand,  he  was  too  husky  for  that;  but  a 
tall,  wide  shouldered,  clean  cut  Eeginald,  with 
a  sort  of  half  bored,  half  amused  look  on  his 
face,  as  if  everybody  else  was  some  kind  of  a 
stale  joke  that  had  to  be  put  up  with  until  you 
got  to  the  important  business  of  admirin'  him. 

It's  clear  from  Vee's  surprised  look,  though, 


that  this  wa'n't  any  put  up  job.  She  gives  a 
little  gasp  as  she  sees  me,  and  then  a  chuckle, 
and  them  gray  eyes  of  hers  kind  of  light  up  with 
fun  and  mischief. 

11  Oh!  "  says  she,  shiftin'  a  big  bunch  of 
orchids  to  her  left  hand  and  holdin'  out  the 
right.  "  I  forgot,  you  know.  Been  waiting 
long?  " 

"  Less'n  a  month,'*  says  I;  "  but,  then, 
Aunty  was  here  part  of  the  time,  and  of  course 
that  helped." 

"Really?"  says  Vee.  "What  did  she— 
But  you  must  meet  Mr.  Cutting.  Bert,  this  is 
Torchy." 

"  Eh?  "  says  Bert,  tearin'  his  thoughts  off'n 
himself  for  a  second  and  gazin'  languid  at  me. 
"  Ah — er — I  fear  I  didn't  quite  catch  the 
name. ' ' 

"  I  don't  want  to  boast,"  says  I,  "  but  it's 
Torchy. ' '  Which  brings  another  chuckle  out  of 
Vee.  " 

"Ah!"  says  Mr.  Cutting.  "Bather  odd, 
what?  Torchy.  Hum-haw!  "  and  he  smothers 
a  yawn  real  polite. 

"  Don't  mind  me,"  says  I.  "  Finish  your 
nap." 

"  Beg  pardon?  "  says  he,  starin'  puzzled. 
"  I — ah — think  I  haven't  had  the  pleasure  be- 
fore. Live  here?  "  And  he  rolls  his  eyes  up  at 
the  windows  around  us. 


6  TRYING  OUT  TORCHY 

"Met  "says  I.  "How  foolish!  Fifth-ave, 
when  I  ain't  abroad,  or  at  Newport." 

"  Ah!  "  says  he,  rousin'  up  enough  to  lift 
his  eyebrows.  "  Very  interesting,  I'm  sure," 
and  with  that  he  has  a  relapse  back  into  him- 
self, and  I  might  have  been  one  of  the  potted 
palms  for  all  the  notice  he  takes  of  me  after 
that. 

Worse  than  all,  though,  was  the  calldown  I 
got  from  that  quick  glance  of  Vee's.  She  didn't 
say  anything ;  but  what  she  meant  plain  enough 
was  that  I'd  been  too  fresh,  joshin'  her  com- 
p'ny  that  way.  And  then,  when  I  tries  to  pass 
it  over  by  gettin'  off  a  few  chatty  remarks,  she 
shrugs  her  shoulders  careless  and  says  how  she 
don't  expect  to  be  in  town  much  this  season. 
They're  off  for  Lenox  next  Monday,  and  after 
that  there'll  be  a  seashore  house  party  at 
Swampscott  perhaps,  and  later  they'll  be  in  the 
mountains — and  so  forth,  don't  you  know. 
Anyway,  it  was  nice  of  me  to  come  around  and 
say  good-by;  and  before  I  know  it  I've  got  my 
chin  down  and  I'm  inspectin'  my  toes  like  a 
kid  bein'  sent  home  from  school  with  a  note 
to  mother.  Also  Mr.  Cutting  is  smilin'  sar- 
castic and  liftin'  his  hat. 

"  Chawmed  to  have  met  you,"  says  he.  "  No 
doubt  I  shall  run  across  you  later  on — at  New- 
port," and  he  don't  take  any  pains  to  hide  the 
wink  he  tips  Vee. 


THE  ACID  TEST  FOE  BEETIE         7 

The  neat  comeback  to  that?  Oh,  sure,  I 
thought  of  half  a  dozen — durin'  the  next 
hour.  But,  sad  to  relate,  just  at  that  special 
minute  all  the  brilliant  response  I  could  think 
of  was  to  work  up  a  turkey  red  color  in  my 
ears,  glare  at  him  savage,  and  whirl  on  my  heel. 
Oh,  yes,  a  prize  exhibition,  that  was;  and  for 
hours  after  I'm  so  proud  of  myself  I'd  been 
glad  to  had  someone  push  me  around  the  block 
with  a  No.  10  shoe ! 

Not  that  I  didn't  recover  in  time.  But  it 
wa'n't  so  gay  that  week,  hearin'  Izzy  Bud- 
heimer  and  that  Tessie  girl  of  his  plannin* 
evenin'  trips  over  to  Palisades  Park,  or  seein' 
the  young  couples  sittin'  out  on  the  steps  down 
our  block  them  moonlight  nights,  with  me  doin' 
the  lonesome  sentry  stunt. 

Lenox  and  Swampscott  Beach  and  the  moun- 
tains, eh?  Well,  I  knew  a  queen  that  was  float- 
in'  around  them  places,  all  right!  But  it  struck 
me  I  came  mighty  near  bein'  a  two-spot  in  the 
discard;  and,  while  I  ain't  great  on  sympa- 
thizin'  with  myself,  I  guess  there  was  a  few 
days  when  my  chest-measure  must  have  been 
subnormal. 

Maybe  I'd  got  farther  into  the  dumps  than 
ever  if  it  hadn't  been  for  Piddie  to  take  it  out 
on.  He'd  cheer  up  any  but  the  most  chronic 
grouch,  just  to  watch  him  get  wild  over  little 
things.  By  accident  I  discovers  that  one  of  the 


8  TRYING  OUT  TOECHY 

lady  typists  had  been  a  country  telegraph  oper- 
ator, back  home  in  Ohio;  so  I  digs  up  an  old 
pocket  clicker  I  used  to  monkey  with  when  I 
was  killin'  time  on  the  A.  D.  T.  bench,  and, 
with  her  usin'  the  space  bar  on  her  machine,  we 
brushes  up  enough  on  the  code  so  we  could  spell 
out  quite  a  few  remarks  across  the  room.  And 
Piddie  he  nearly  froths  at  the  mouth  because  he 
can't  locate  what's  goin'  on. 

We  was  so  busy  at  it,  here  the  other  morning 
that  the  first  thing  I  knew  there's  Old  Hickory 
standin'  at  the  door  of  his  private  office,  scowl- 
in'  heavy  and  listenin'.  No  foolin'  him,  either. 
He  traces  the  clicks  to  me,  first  shot. 

"  Boy,"  he  growls,  "  what  are  you  making 
that  infernal  racket  with?  " 

I  holds  the  clicker  up  and  grins.  "  Just 
practicing  Sir,"  says  I. 

"Huh!"  says  he.  "Think  that's  what 
you're  paid  for,  eh?  ' 

"  No,  Sir,"  says  I.  "If  it  was  I'd  be  gettin' 
more  a  week." 

And  you  should  have  seen  the  picture  of  hor- 
ror spread  over  Piddie 's  face  at  that.  It  was 
worth  riskin'  gettin'  fired  just  to  watch.  But 
instead  of  bringin'  out  the  purple  blotches  on 
Mr.  Ellins'  cheeks,  like  repartee  of  that  kind 
generally  does,  he  cocks  his  head  on  one  side, 
stares  at  me  squint  eyed  for  a  minute,  and  then 
holds  up  one  finger. 


THE  ACID  TEST  FOB  BEETIE        9 

"  Boy,"  says  he,  "  come  in  here!  " 

"Well,  I  didn't  know  whether  it  meant  bein' 
used  as  a  floor  mop,  or  just  meetin'  sudden 
death;  but  I  leaves  Piddie  holdin'  his  breath 
and  walks  in  with  the  best  imitation  of  a  smile 
I  could  fake  up.  Old  Hickory  don't  act  mur- 
derous at  that.  He 's  sittin '  in  his  big  mahogany 
swing  chair  chewin'  a  cigar  thoughtful,  and  he 
lets  me  shiver  on  the  rug  awhile  before  he  looks 
up. 

"  How  much  do  you  know  about  using  that 
thing?  "  says  he. 

"  Eh!  "  I  gasps  out.  "  Oh,  this?  Why,  I 
can  dribble  out  words  on  it;  but  I  ain't  any 
Flicker  McCann." 

"  Flicker  who?  "  says  he. 

"  McCann,"  says  I.  "  Used  to  be  the  crack 
A.  P.  sender  on  the  Western  news  wire." 

"  I  see,"  says  Mr.  Ellins.  "  Pupil  of  his,  are 
you?  " 

' '  Gee,  no !  "  says  I.  ' '  All  I  know  is  what 
I  picked  up  from  Pat  Burns,  manager  around  to 
No.  19  when  I  was  wearin'  the  cap.  Tried  to 
work  me  in  on  the  key  so  I  could  take  locals 
while  he  played  pool  next  door." 

"  But  could  you  read  a  message  as  it  was 
ticked  off?  "  says  he. 

"  Sure,"  says  I,  "  unless  it  was  comin'  from 
one  of  them  flossy  Morse  wizards  that  makes  it 
sound  like  a  buzz  saw." 


10  TRYING  OUT  TORCHY 

"  How  about  wireless  sending?  "  says  he. 

11  Cinch!  "  says  I.  "  They  don't  rip  it  off 
so  fast.  It's  like  readin'  big  print." 

"  Humph!  "  he  grumbles,  shuttin'  his  teeth 
solid  on  the  cigar  while  he  inspects  the  ceilin'. 
"  You  seem  to  have  an  amazing  number  of  fool 
accomplishments.  I've  a  mind  to  test  the  util- 
ity of  this  one." 

"  Go  as  far  as  you  like,  Mr.  Ellins,"  says  I. 

"  Understand,  though,"  he  adds,  "I'm  rely- 
ing a  good  deal  on  a  discretion  which  you  sel- 
dom exhibit.  But  there's  no  one  else  I  can 
ask." 

"  As  long  as  I  ain't  picked  for  the  hope  of 
the  white  race, ' '  says  I,  "  or  sent  out  distribut- 
in'  suffrage  literature,  I'll  do  my  best.  It  ain't 
blockin'  a  subpoena  server,  is  it!  ' 

No,  it  was  a  strictly  business  proposition, 
with  a  society  twist.  There  was  a  pool  of  some 
kind,  with  a  lot  of  the  big  money  bunch  in  it; 
but  one  of  the  crowd  was  a  young  fellow  who  'd 
been  rung  in  just  because  he'd  inherited  Papa's 
seat  on  the  Exchange  and  Papa's  big  holdings, 
and  he'd  shown  signs  of  weakenin'  when  he 
found  how  deep  he  was  gettin'  in.  Course, 
there  was  nothin'  to  hold  him  but  his  word;  but 
he  hadn't  been  tried  out  in  a  gentlemen's  agree- 
ment before.  Thirty-six  hours  more  was  all 
they  asked  him  to  stick  by  them ;  but  if  he  went 
to  dumpin'  his  stocks  on  a  wabbly  market  ahead 


THE  ACID  TEST  FOE  BEETIE       11 

of  time  the  fat  would  be  all  over  the  gas 
stove. 

And  see  how  Old  Hickory  handles  a  case  like 
that!  He  don't  shake  a  club  at  Mr.  "Weak 
Knees,  or  sick  a  lot  of  bonehead  gumshoe  men 
on  his  trail.  He  simply  wires  Mrs.  Ellins  to 
invite  the  young  man  up  to  their  Newport  place 
for  a  week-end,  and  has  her  send  the  steam 
yacht  down  after  him.  Ain't  that  smooth? 
And  to  keep  his  mind  off  business  cares  Mr. 
Ellins  suggests  that  Miss  Marjorie  and  some 
of  her  friends  better  come  along  too. 

"  But,  blast  it!  "  says  Old  Hickory,  "  it  has 
just  occurred  to  me  that  the  Althea  has  a  wire- 
less outfit  aboard.  See?  " 

"  I  get  you,"  says  I.  "  You  want  me  to 
sneak  on,  put  the  machine  out  of  business,  tie 
the  operator  to  the  binnacle,  and — " 

"  Say,  young  man,"  breaks  in  Old  Hickory, 
"  do  you  think  this  is  a  moving  picture  drama? 
Tie  nothing!  You  go  as  my  special  messenger, 
with  a  tin  document  box  which  you  are  to  de- 
liver very  carefully  to  my  son  Robert.  He'll 
be  surprised  to  get  it;  but  that  doesn't  matter. 
What  I  want  you  to  do  on  the  way  up  is  this : 
keep  an  eye  on  a  tall,  good  looking  young  chap 
with  an  exaggerated  sense  of  his  own  impor- 
tance. His  name  is  Cutting — Albert  Dunn  Cut- 
ting." 

"  Z-z-zing!  "  says  I,  under  my  breath. 


12  TEYING  OUT  TOKCHY 

"  Eh?  "  says  Mr.  Ellins.  "Oh,  I  thought 
yon  spoke.  Yes,  Cutting.  Watch  him  close, 
keep  near  the  wireless  cabin, — it's  a  little  coop 
just  aft  of  the  bridge, — and  listen  for  a  selling 
order.  If  he  starts  a  message,  you  are  to  take 
him  one  side,  beg  his  pardon  politely,  and 
hand  him  the  note  I'm  going  to  write  now.  Got 
that  all  clear?  " 

Did  I  have  it?  Why,  I  could  have  said  it 
backwards.  Well,  well!  Bertie  boy!  Might 
meet  me  again,  eh?  That  was  a  joke — once. 
W'at  ho !  To  have  a  swell  yachtin'  trip  thrown 
at  you  offhand,  and  then  a  bonus  like  this  hung 
up  besides!  Say,  I  was  so  afraid  of  showin' 
how  tickled  I  was  that  I  must  have  overdone 
the  business. 

"  Come,  come!  "  says  Old  Hickory.  "  If  it's 
going  to  bore  you  like  that — ' 

"  It  ain't,"  says  I.  "I  was  only  wonderin', 
in  case  I  did  have  to  slip  anything  over  on  this 
Mr.  Cutting,  if  it  would  hurt  his  feelin's  bad." 

"  Hang  his  feelings!  "  snorts  Old  Hickory. 
"  He's  an  overbearing  young  puppy,  and  if 
he's  cad  enough  to  take  advantage  of  my  hos- 
pitality to  try  any  of  his  tricks  on  me,  I  want 
him  to  squirm  for  it.  He  will  too,  if  he  has 
occasion  to  read  what  I'm  going  to  write.  And 
if  he  doesn't  cancel  that  selling  order  within 
five  minutes  after,  you  file  a  message  to  that 
effect  and  I'll  spring  a  surprise  on  him  that 


THE  ACID  TEST  FOE  BERTIE       13 

he  won't  get  over  in  a  lifetime.  But  I'd  rather 
not  just  now,  and  let's  hope  he  behaves.  That's 
all.  I've  ordered  the  Althea  to  sail  from  East 
23d-st.  at  eleven-thirty,  and  you  may  have  half 
an  hour  to  get  your  toothbrush  and  extra  col- 
lar and  report  back  here.  Send  Mr.  Piddie  in 
as  you  go  out." 

"  Toothbrush  and  extra  collar,"  thinks  I, 
"  for  a  trip  to  Newport!  Gee!  "  I've  no 
sooner  shooed  Piddie  through  the  door  than  I 
rushes  into  the  film'  department,  backs  Izzy 
Budheimer  into  a  corner,  and  makes  a  deal  to 
hire  his  sporty  new  vacation  outfit  that  he'd 
just  been  showin'  me  in  the  coatroom, — two- 
piece  white  flannel  suit,  with  white  canvas 
shoes  to  match,  and  a  white  felt  hat.  Izzy'd 
been  gatherin'  the  costume  at  bargain  sale? 
against  the  time  when  he  makes  his  annual 
splurge  at  Far  Rockaway;  but,  as  that  event 
was  two  weeks  off  and  I  was  wavin'  three  whole 
dollars  at  him  enticin',  he  couldn't  resist. 

11  All  right,"  says  Izzy,  swallowin'  hard; 
"  but  see  you  pull  them  pants  up  every  time 
you  sit  down." 

"  Izzy,"  says  I,  "  I  won't  think  of  anything 
else." 

And  talk  about  class !  You  should  have  seen 
me  after  I'd  had  a  half-hour  session  in  the  chief 
engineer's  stateroom  and  starts  to  walk  aft, 
There  was  Marjorie,  strainin'  the  seams  of  her 


14  TRYING  OUT  TORCHY 

blue  yachtin'  costume;  and  a  long  necked, 
frizzy  haired  young  lady  friend  of  hers ;  and  a 
giddy  lookin'  middle  aged  blonde  with  jet  ear 
pendants  that  I  took  for  a  widow  doin'  the 
chaperon  act;  and  in  the  center  of  the  group, 
leanin'  back  graceful  with  his  cigarette,  was 
Mr.  Cutting,  enjoyin'  his  own  society  and  not 
botherin'  much  about  anything  else.  I  could 
see  Marjorie's  eyes  bug  out  as  she  gets  her 
first  view  of  the  new  arrival,  and  a  minute  later 
she  comes  skippin'  over. 

"  Why,  Torchy!  "  she  squeals.  "  How  do 
you  happen  to — " 

"  S-s-s-sh!  "  says  I,  wavin'  her  away  mys- 
terious. "  Cut  it  out!  " 

"  But  why?  "  says  she,  gawpin'. 

"I'm  incog,"  says  I.  "  Important  business. 
Make  out  you  don't  know  me." 

"  How  absurd!  "  says  she.  "  Besides, 
there's  someone  else  on  board  who  will.  She's 
in  the  after  saloon.  Wait.  Oh,  Vee!  I  say, 
Vee!  " 

And  there  was  no  place  to  dodge,  either. 
Out  she  comes,  lookin '  more  stunnic '  than  ever 
in  her  white  serge.  And  perhaps  them  big 
eyes  of  hers  don't  open  up  some! 

"  O-o-o-oh!  "  says  she.  "Why,  it's 
Torchy!  " 

"  And  doesn't  he  look  great,  though?  " 
gushes  Mar.jorie. 


THE  ACID  TEST  FOR  BERTIE       15 

"  Awfully  smart,"  says  Vee.  "  But  how— 
why—" 

"  S-s-s-sh!  "  says  Marjorie.  "  He's  on  a 
secret  mission.  Important!  In  disguise,  you 
know!  " 

"  My,  my!  "  says  Vee,  rollin'  her  eyes. 
"  Really?  " 

u  Terribly  exciting,  isn't  it!  "  Marjorie  rat- 
tles on.  "  Almost  gives  you  the  shivers  to — " 

'  *  Ah,  can  it !  "  says  I.  ' '  Humorous  stuff 
like  that's  too  good  to  waste  on  me.  Save  it 
for  a  disk  record." 

But  you  know  how  girls  are  when  they  think 
they've  dug  up  a  real  funny  thought  all  by 
themselves.  There's  no  chokin'  'em  off.  So 
I  walks  away  and  leaves  'em  gigglin'  and 
chucklin'.  Oh,  yes,  they  had  a  perfectly  good 
time  for  awhile,  exchangin'  boardin'  school 
josh,  tiptoein'  past  with  their  fingers  en  their 
lips,  and  even  stalkin'  me  with  a  camera  to 
get  snapshots.  That's  Marjorie !  For  a  heavy- 
weight cutup  she's  the  limit,  and  Vee  follows 
her  lead. 

And  me?  Well,  I'd  been  jarred  into  showin* 
the  wrong  side  of  my  disposition  once,  and  now 
I  wa'n't  battin'  an  eyelash.  Besides,  I  was  on 
my  job.  There  was  a  certain  party  aboard 
that  was  go  in'  to  get  all  the  attention  I  had  to 
spare,  and  until  I'd  got  him  right  I  couldn't 
bother  with  anything  else. 


16  TRYING  OUT  TORCHY 

But  if  Mr.  Cutting  had  business  worries  on 
his  mind  he  didn't  show  it.  He  stretches  him- 
self out  comf 'table  as  we  skims  along  up  the 
East  River  and  into  the  Sound,  lights  a  fresh 
cigarette  now  and  then,  and  listens  languid  to 
the  jolly  the  blonde  widow  seems  to  be  puttin' 
over.  Then,  when  the  girls  get  tired  of  havin' 
fun  with  me,  he  allows  them  to  join  the  ad- 
mirin'  circle. 

So  I  move  off  to  locate  the  wireless  man,  asks 
him  if  he's  usin'  Morse  or  the  Continental,  gets 
him  to  admit  that  the  air  is  as  full  of  holes  as 
a  Swiss  cheese  to-day,  and  then  reads  all  the 
baseball  news  in  two  noon  extras  I've  brought 
along.  Still  Mr.  Cutting  shows  no  signs  of  get- 
tin'  nervous. 

"  Gee!  "  says  I  to  myself.  "  He's  got  to, 
that's  all!  " 

So  after  lunch  I  begins.  The  first  two  or 
three  times  that  I  walks  past  and  shoots  over 
the  suspicious  squint  at  him  he  hardly  notices; 
but  I  keeps  it  up,  pacin'  back  and  forth  reg'lar, 
until  I  catches  him  followin'  me  out  of  the 
corner  of  his  eye.  Next  I  notices  him  askin' 
somethin'  of  Marjorie,  hears  her  giggle,  and  I 
knows  she's  tellin'  him  how  I'm  on  a  special 
job  for  Papa.  He  appears  kind  of  int 'rested  at 
that. 

My  next  move  is  to  hold  up  the  wireless 
operator  as  he  passes  by,  ask  more  fool  ques- 


THE  ACID  TEST  FOR  BERTIE      17 

tions  about  how  the  juice  is  workin',  and  then 
casually  remark  that  I  suppose  Wall  Street 
ain't  quieted  down  any  since  the  mornin' 
flurry.  Course,  he  ain't  heard  anything  of  the 
kind,  and  likely  wouldn't  if  it  had  been  so;  but 
Mr.  Albert  Dunn  Cutting  pricks  up  his  ears. 

As  a  follow  up  to  this  I  tries  fixin'  Bertie  with 
a  sleuthy  stare  from  behind  a  newspaper.  It 
got  him,  too.  He  wiggles  around  more  or  less, 
twists  his  neck  every  other  minute  to  see  if  I'm 
still  at  it,  misses  conversation  cues,  and  begins 
to  look  at  his  watch.  Fin'lly  he  breaks  away 
and  starts  pacin'  the  deck,  and  as  he  goes  up 
one  side  I  goes  down  on  the  other.  I  spots  him 
lookin'  anxious  at  the  extras  I  has  in  my 
pocket;  so  I  tosses  'em  overboard. 

It  was  two-fifteen,  with  three-quarters  of  an 
hour  before  the  gong  would  stop  tradin'  for  the 
day,  and  I  judged  that  Mr.  Cutting  knew  all 
about  it  to  the  fraction  of  a  minute.  He  paces 
up  as  far  as  the  wireless  coop,  and  I  leans  over 
the  rail  to  give  him  all  the  rope  he  needs.  But 
all  he  does  is  look  in  and  then  go  back  to  the 
girls.  They  don't  find  him  very  entertainin' 
comp'ny,  though.  Two  minutes  more  and  he's 
up  pacin'  again,  and  at  two-thirty  exactly  he's 
askin'  the  wireless  man  for  a  blank. 

"  Aha,  aha,  aha!  "  says  I  to  myself. 

He  scribbles  off  something  nervous,  hands  it 
to  the  operator,  and  starts  back  to  his  chair. 


18  TRYING  OUT  TOECHY 

But  I'm  right  there  in  his  path,  with  Old  Hick* 
ory's  note  all  ready  to  hand  over. 

"  Excuse  me  for  buttin'  in,"  says  I;  "  but, 
are  you  dead  sure  you  want  that  sent?  "  f 

"  Eh?  "  says  he,  stoppin'  short.  "  Oh,  the 
message?  Why,  have  you  heard  from  the 
match?  " 

Then  it  was  my  turn  to  gawp. 

"  Tennis  finals,  you  know,  up  at  New- 
castle? "  he  goes  on.  "  Lantry's  a  chum  of 
mine,  and  I'm  anxious  to  know  how  he's  com- 
ing on  with  the  English  champion.  You  had 
some  extras,  didn't  you?  Anything  in  them, 
may  I  ask?  " 

Don't  sound  like  a  bluff,  either.  He  goes  on  to 
say,  too,  how  he  kind  of  hated  to  use  Mr.  Ellins ' 
wireless  so  free;  but — 

"  Ah,  squash!  "  says  I,  takin'  a  deep  breath 
at  the  thought  of  how  narrow  I'd  missed  makin' 
a  chump  of  myself.  "  Use  him?  Why,  that's 
what  he's  here  for.  Who  you  tryin'  to  call,  the 
ticker  people?  Ah,  they're  dead  ones  on  events 
like  that.  Say,  lemme  call  up  Whitey,  who's 
the  only  real  live  sporting  editor  in  New  York. 
He's  a  friend  of  mine,  and  he'll  give  us  the  lat- 
est, Mr.  Cutting." 

How  did  I  know,  after  all?  Say,  didn't  I 
read  his  message,  while  I  was  writin'  mine  to 
Whitey?  And  then  didn't  I  boss  that  operator 
around  like  I  owned  the  boat  until  he  gets  us 


THE  ACID  TEST  FOE  BERTIE      19 

the  complete  score  and  Mr.  Cutting  knows  all 
about  how  his  friend  had  put  it  all  over  the 
British  champ?  Well,  I  guess!  He  appreci- 
ates it  too,  and  when  he  walks  aft  again  Bert 
is  pattin'  me  on  the  back  like  I  was  a  long  lost 
brother,  and  he's  so  woke  up  and  good  natured 
that  he  lets  the  frizzy  haired  girl  lead  him  over 
to  a  shady  corner  to  tell  him  the  story  of  her 
life.  And  as  the  widow  has  found  her  place  in 
a  novel  she's  tryin'  to  read,  and  as  Marjorie 
beats  it  below  for  her  reg'lar  afternoon  nap, 
it's  a  case  of  Vee  and  me  with  the  deck  to  our- 
selves. 

She  opens  by  hitchin'  her  chair  up.  "  You 
can  behave  nice  at  times,  can't  you?  "  says  she. 

"  Guess  I  ain't  any  star  performer,  at  that," 
says  I. 

"  You  don't  have  stupid  spells,  though,  I 
hope?  "  says  she,  glancin'  over  at  Bert,  who's 
tryin'  to  smother  another  yawn. 

"  Depends  some  on  the  comp'ny,"  says  I. 
"  Just  now  I  feel  real  wide  awake." 

"  Think  it  will  last?  "  says  she. 

"  When  my  foot  goes  to  sleep  I'll  let  you 
know,"  says  I. 

"  Silly!  "  says  she.  "  Let's  go  up  toward 
the  bow,  where  the  breeze  is  better." 

Well,  we  did.  Also  who  was  it  sits  up  front 
with  Vee  and  watches  the  moonlight  after  din- 
ner? As  the  other  four  was  playin'  auction 


20  TRYING  OUT  TORCHY 

bridge  on  the  after  deck,  I'll  give  you  one  guess. 
Uh-huh!  Little  Willie,  all  dolled  up  in  white, 
and  yachtin'  up  to  Newport  like  a  bloomin' 
plute!  Course,  it  don't  last  forever,  and  next 
mornin'  early  it's  me  packin'  up  to  catch  » 
train  back.  But  that  was  some  evenin'! 

11  How  about  young  Cutting?  "  says  Old 
Hickory,  as  I  shows  up  next  afternoon. 

"  Full  of  nicks,"  says  I,  tossin'  over  the  note 
I'd  come  so  near  makin'  a  fool  play  with;  "  but, 
barrin'  that,  he's  straight  as  a  string.  Any- 
way, I  found  out  that  stock  deals  don't  worry 
him  much,  and  I  guess  all  that  perfectly  good 
yacht  sleuthing  I  done  was  a  total  loss,  Mr. 
Ellins;  but  any  time  you've  got  more  of  it  to 
hand  out,  don't  be  afraid  to  call  on  me.  Next 
throw  it  might  take." 


You  CAN  BEHAVE  NICE  AT  TIMES,"  SAYS  VEE.    Page  19. 


CHAPTER  H 

WHEN  ALGY  WAS  IN  LINE 

i 

THAT  was  what  you  might  call  an  errand  de 
luxe,  though.  They  don't  come  every  day,  even 
to  a  star  performer  like  me.  Honest,  there's 
days  and  days  at  the  Corrugated  when  things 
drift  along  without  any  more  help  from  me 
than  your  ordinary  cheap  skate  office  boy  could 
hand  out.  Course  though,  I'm  right  on  deck 
when  they  do  need  me.  Meantime  such  speci- 
mens as  Algy  keeps  things  from  gettin'  too 
monotonous. 

We'd  had  Algy  much  as  five  or  six  weeks,  and 
he'd  come  to  be  a  reg'lar  standin'  joke  here  at 
the  Corrugated.  You  know.  Every  big  office 
has  one  that's  as  much  a  part  of  the  fixtures 
as  the  copy  press  or  the  spring  water  tank. 
They  come  in  handy,  too,  keepin'  the  force 
cheered  up  on  dull  days,  and  actin'  as  sort  of 
escape  valves  for  all  the  cheap  humor  that  can't 
be  unloaded  on  anyone  else. 

How  Algy  ever  dodged  bein'  a  man  milliner 
or  a  floor  walker  in  the  cloak  and  suit  depart- 
ment, I  couldn't  figure  out;  for  he  had  all  the 
points.  One  of  these  mushy  lookin',  soft 

21 


22  TRYING  OUT  TOECHY 

spoken,  biscuit  haired,  white  livered,  young 
wrist  slappers,  Algy  was  ;  with  a  complexion  as 
ruddy  as  a  pail  of  lard,  skim-milk  blue  eyes, 
and  a  set  of  parlor  manners  that  was  as  good 
as  a  correspondence  course  in  etiquette  just 
to  watch. 

Up  and  down  there  was  quite  a  lot  to  Algy; 
but  he  was  thickest  through  at  about  the  point 
where  his  throat  apple  bulged  through  his 
white  wings  collar.  And  in  his  long  sack  coat 
and  narrow  patent  leather  shoes  he  certainly 
was  ornamental  to  have  around  the  office. 

It  was  Old  Hickory's  idea  of  having  a  man 
stenographer  added  to  the  staff.  As  he  ex- 
plains careful  to  Piddie,  there  was  times  when 
he  just  naturally  had  to  cuss  durin'  business 
hours,  and,  while  some  of  the  lady  typists  was 
fairly  well  broke  in,  he  couldn't  always  do 
justice  to  his  feelin's  with  them  takin'  dicta- 
tion. So  he  gives  orders  to  take  on  a  man 
shorthand  expert,  that  wouldn't  turn  pink 
and  swallow  his  gum  when  he  really  cut 


And  Piddie,  who's  got  a  head  on  him  like 
a  lima  bean  —  well,  he  picks  Algy  for  the  job. 
First  mornin'  he  shows  up  at  the  gate  and  an- 
nounces who  he  is  I  could  hardly  believe  it. 

"  Honest?  "  says  I.  "  Why,  you  bold  thing! 
Sure  you  ain't  mistook  this  for  a  mother's 
help  '  sit  'f  " 


WHEN  ALGY  WAS  IN  LINE         £3 

Algy,  he  only  smiles  kind  of  weary  and  asks 
where  he  shall  hang  up  his  hat  and  coat. 

"  Ladies'  cloakroom  to  the  right,  men's  to 
the  left,"  says  I.  "  Take  your  choice,  Algy." 

But  there's  no  gettin'  a  rise  out  of  him, 
though.  I  tried  him  out  good  and  plenty  that 
first  week  without  rufflin'  a  feather,  and  you 
can  bet  if  the  jabs  I  sent  in  didn't  get  home, 
nothin'  Izzy  Budheimer  and  them  other  flat- 
heads  could  think  up  would  have  any  effect. 

For,  in  spite  of  his  meek  ways,  Algy  had  a 
hide  like  a  sole  leather  trunk.  Seemed  like  he 
was  used  to  that  sort  of  joshin'  and  didn't 
mind  it  any  more.  Algernon  Eogers  Pratt  was 
the  name  he  registered  with  the  cashier;  but 
he'd  answer  to  Miss  Pratt,  or  Algy  dear,  just 
as  cheerful  as  he  would  to  anything  else. 

"  Come,  Deary,"  I'd  say  to  him,  "  fix  your 
side  combs  and  trot  into  the  private  office :  Mr. 
Ellins  is  ready  for  you." 

And  I  wouldn't  get  so  much  as  a  pout  from 
him.  So  of  course  as  a  joke  he  got  a  little 
tame  to  me. 

He  wa'n't  a  joke  to  Old  Hickory,  though. 
He  was  just  a  disappointment.  I  didn't  tum- 
ble to  how  the  boss  was  takin'  Algy  for  near 
a  week,  either,  and  then  one  day  I  happened 
to  be  in  at  the  desk  just  as  Algy  gathers  up  his 
notebook  and  glides  out.  Old  Hickory  turns 
and  glares  after  him  savage,  and  then  rips  out 


24  TRYING  OUT  TORCHY 

a  few  atmosphere  scorchers  that  almost  blis 
ters  the  varnish. 

"  Phew!  ':  says  he,  stoppin'  for  breath. 
"  I've  been  keeping  all  that  bottled  up  for  the 
last  hour.  Torchy,  where  in  the  merry  Mith- 
ridates  did  Mr.  Piddie  ever  find  such  a  limp 
spined  specimen?  ' 

"  Who,  Algy?  "  says  I.  "  Why,  that's  his 
idea  of  a  man  stenographer,  I  guess." 

"  Huh!  "  snorts  Mr.  Ellins.  "  That  isn't  a 
man:  that's  a  parody.  He  ought  to  be  wearing 
a  tube  skirt  and  doing  fancywork.  Why,  when 
he's  in  here  I  don't  feel  that  I  can  even  say 
darn,  and  it's  getting  on  my  nerves." 

Old  Hickory  must  have  let  out  some  of  this 
in  other  quarters,  too,  judgin'  by  the  way  Pid- 
die proceeds  to  rub  it  into  Algy  every  chance 
he  gets.  Course,  the  thing  to  do  was  to  give 
him  the  chuck  first  payday,  but,  as  I  under- 
stands it,  Mr.  Ellins  won't  have  that.  He 
sticks  out  for  a  straight  deal  towards  the  help, 
Old  Hickory  does,  and  one  of  the  red  ink  rules 
of  the  Corrugated  is  that  nobody  gets  the  can 
tied  to  'em  unless  they've  earned  it  good  and 
proper.  Personal  grouches  don't  count  with 
him,  and  he  follows  his  own  dope. 

But,  say,  between  Piddie  goin'  sour  on  him 
that  way,  and  all  the  rest  of  us  usin'  him  as  a 
comic  feeder,  Algy's  workin'  hours  couldn't 
have  been  a  dream  of  delight. 


WHEN  ALGY  WAS  IN  LINE         25 

He  don't  squeal,  though,  or  even  so  much  as 
run  out  his  tongue  by  way  of  gettin'  back  at 
us ;  and  I  don 't  know  as  you  can  blame  us  much 
if  we  kind  of  got  into  the  habit  of  treatin'  him 
as  if  he  wa'nrc  exactly  human.  You  know 
how  it  is?  All  I  could  see  to  Algy  was  a  sort 
of  livin'  machine  that  could  take  dictation  like 
a  streak  and  thump  a  typewriter  until  he  al- 
most had  the  bearin's  hot.  That  he  might  have 
a  home  somewhere,  and  relations,  and  private 
ideas  of  his  own  about  things,  never  struck  me 
until — 

Well,  it  was  one  afternoon  here  a  week  or  so 
ago.  I'd  jumped  out  on  the  stroke  of  five  and 
was  two  blocks  away  before  I  remembers  about 
an  extra  bunch  of  letters  Piddie  had  told  me 
special  to  dump  in  the  substation.  So  it  was 
a  case  of  beatin'  it  back  and  gettin'  'em.  The 
scrubwoman  was  already  on  the  job  as  I  got 
off  at  our  floor;  but  there  wa'n't  anyone  else 
in  sight. 

That  is,  I  didn't  see  anyone  as  I  dashed  in, 
and  I'd  grabbed  the  letters  and  was  turnin'  to 
rush  out  again,  when  over  in  the  corner  I 
spots  this  grief  spectacle.  It's  Algy,  slumped 
forward  on  his  little  typewriter  table,  his 
head  between  his  arms,  and  his  shoulders 
heavin'  up  and  down  from  deep  emotion. 
Course,  I  couldn't  resist  a  good  chance  like 
that. 


26  TRYING  OUT  TORCHY 

"Well,  well!"  says  I.  "  Workin'  the 
sprinkler,  eh  ?  How  harrowin ' !  ' ' 

Algy,  he  straightens  up  for  a  second  at 
that,  and  when  he's  seen  who  it  is  he  caves  in 
again.  But  it's  long  enough  for  me  to  see  I 
was  wrong  on  the  sprinkler  guess.  However 
bad  he  felt,  he  wa'n't  leakin'  any  brine 
over  it. 

11  Enjoyin'  a  dry  one,  eh!  "  says  I.  "  Well, 
what's  happened  now?  Some  of  the  lady  typ- 
ists been  actin'  catty?  " 

"  Please,  Torchy!  "  says  he,  shakin'  his  head 
sad.  "  I — I  don't  wish  to  talk  about  it." 

"  Ah,  it'll  do  you  good  to  get  it  out  of  your 
system,"  says  I.  "  Come  on,  now,  who's  be- 
haved horrid  to  you?  Piddie  been  naggin' 
again?  " 

"  Oh,  I  don't  mind  Mr.  Piddie,"  says  Algy. 
"  He— he  isn't  fair,  that's  all.  But  Mr.  Ellins 
— well,  he  had  no  right  to  say  it." 

"  Old  Hickory,  eh?  "  says  I.  "Oh,  I  can 
guess.  Something  went  wrong,  I  expect,  and 
he  turned  on  the  lurid  language.  Tore  off 
some  real  naughty  words,  did  he?  ' 

Algy  nods.  "  Never  in  all  my  life,"  he  be- 
gins, "  did  I  ever  hear  such— 

"  Well,  you  stick  around  the  Corrugated 
awhile  longer,"  I  breaks  in,  "  and  you'll  hear 
more.  But  don't  you  care.  He  don't  mean 
anything  by  it." 


WHEN  ALGY  WAS  IN  LINE         27 

11  But  I  didn't  care,"  says  Algy.  "  It  was 
his  apologizing  afterward  that  hurt." 

"  Whe-e-e-ew!  "  says  I.  "  Old  Hickory 
apologized,  did  he?  ' 

"  Not  in  fun,  either,"  complains  Algy. 
t(  He — he  meant  it.  Apologized  to  me  just  as 
if  I  was — was —  But  I'm  not  going  to  stand 
it.  I'm  going  to  quit,  that's  all!  " 

"  Stop  your  kiddin',  Algy,"  says  I.  "  You 
wouldn't  want  to  break  his  heart  that  way." 

"  Oh,  I  know,"  says  Algy,  real  bitter.  "I'm 
a  joke.  I've  always  been  a  joke.  But  I'm 
through  being  one.  I'll  show  him,  and  every- 
one else!  They'll  see!  I'm  going  to  clear  out 
now  and  do  what  I've  always  wanted  to  do — • 
Aunt  Hattie  or  no  Aunt  Hattie." 

"  Eh?  "  says  I.  "  Hadn't  heard  of  her  be- 
fore." 

"  She's  the  one  I've  been  living  with  since 
Mother  died,"  says  Algy.  "  It's  on  her  ac- 
count I've  been  staying  and  putting  up  with 
all  this.  She  didn't  want  me  to  go.  She  al- 
ways cries  and  takes  on  every  time  I  speak  of 
starting  West  and  being  a  cowboy." 

"  Wh-a-a-at!  "  I  gasps.  "  Say,  Algy,  put 
that  last  across  once  more,  so  I'll  be  sure  my 
ears  ain't  members  of  the  Ananias  Club.  Cow- 
boy, did  you  say?  " 

"  Why  not?  "  demands  Algy,  stiff enin'  up. 

And  when  I'd  caught  my  breath  once  more 


28  TRYING  OUT  TOECHY 

and  smoothed  my  face  out,  I  made  him  give 
me  the  details.  And,  say,  folks  get  queer 
quirks,  don't  they?  I  expect  lots  of  us  has 
some  sneakin'  idea  that  sometime  or  other 
we'll  be  this  or  that;  an  idea  that  we  keep- 
tucked  away  private  and  don't  often  talk  about. 
But  Algy  as  a  cowboy!  Can  you  surround 
it? 

"  How  long  you  been  feedin'  this  bug?  " 
says  I. 

"  Why,  a  long  time,"  says  Algy.  *'  I  began 
thinking  about  it  when  I  was  clerking  in  the 
store." 

"  Aha!  "  says  I.  "  I  knew!  Eibbon  counter, 
wa'n't  it?  " 

"  Why,  all  over,"  says  Algy.  "  You  see, 
Father  used  to  have  a  little  fancy  goods  store 
on  125th-st.  Then  when  he  died  Mother  kept 
it  on,  with  Aunty  to  help.  I  was  brought  up  in 
the  store,  as  you  might  say.  I  didn't  want  to 
be  a  clerk;  but  there  was  no  escape.  A  boy 
of  ten  can't  say  what  he'll  do.  I  had  rather 
have  been  out  playing  with  the  other  fellows,  of 
course;  but  they  wouldn't  let  me.  Besides, 
they  needed  me  to  help  in  the  store.  Yes,  I've 
sold  ribbon,  miles  of  it;  and  lace,  and  corsets, 
and  hosiery,  and  embroidery  silks.  And  I've 
been  days  almost  without  speaking  to  a  boy 
or  a  man — just  women.  But  I  couldn't  help 
it,  I  tell  you!  I  hated  it,  hated  it!  " 


WHEN  ALGY  WAS  IN  LINE         29 

I  wouldn't  have  thought,  either,  that  Algy 
«ould  look  so  fierce,  or  that  he  had  such  a  deep 
voice. 

"  I  used  to  read  and  think  and  dream  about 
being  something  different,"  he  goes  on.  ''I 
wanted  to  live  out  in  the  open  air,  out  in  the 
sun  and  wind  and  rain,  and  be  a  man  among 
men.  I  could,  you  know.  I'm  not  so  weak  and 
soft  as  I  look.  But  what  chance  have  I  had, 
brought  up  among  women  in  a  fancy  goods 
store?  Then,  when  the  big  department  stores 
crowded  us  out  and  we  had  to  close,  and 
Mother  died — well,  I  had  to  do  something. 
And  all  Aunty  would  let  me  try  was  stenog- 
raphy; so  I — I'm  that!  But  I'm  through! 
There !  Hang  the  old  notebook !  ' '  And  bang 
it  goes,  clear  across  the  room.  "  Drat  the 
beastly  pencils !  ' '  Algy  sends  a  shower  of  'em 
against  the  safe.  "  Darn  the  old  typewriter, 
too !  '  With  which  he  lands,  a  kick  on  the  tin 
cover  of  the  machine. 

II  Fine!  "  says  I.    "  But  what  next?  " 

"  Why,"  says  Algy,  "  now  I'm  going  home 
and  tell  Aunt  Hattie  that  I  start  to-morrow  to 
be  a  cowboy." 

"  Algy,"  says  I,  "  don't." 

"  But  I  will,"  says  he.  Algy  has  his  chin  up 
too,  and  his  shoulders  back,  and  there's  a  busi- 
nesslike look  to  the  way  he  holds  his  jaw. 

* '  Just  as  you  say, ' '  says  I ;  ' '  but  lemme  give 


30  TRYING  OUT  TOBCHY 

you  this  tip:  You  won't  be  out  among  them 
flannel  shirts  two  days  before  they'll  have  you 
skinned  alive.  Why,  Algy,  don't  you  know 
you'd  be  as  welcome  on  some  ranch  as  a  pussy- 
cat in  a  roomful  of  fox  terriers !  Go  on,  Algy; 
but  as  you're  jumpin'  across  the  prairie  some 
night,  with  your  eyes  bugged  and  a  bunch  of 
frolicsome  beef  producers  behind  tryin'  to 
shoot  the  heels  off  your  shoes,  just  remember 
that  you  was  warned. ' ' 

"  Pooh!  "  says  Algy.  "  Cowboys  don't  do 
that  sort  of  thing  nowadays,  you  know.  Be- 
sides, if  it  comes  to  that,  I  could  do  a  little 
shooting  too." 

"  What  with/'  says  I,  "  an  air  rifle?  " 

And  that  was  the  first  time  I'd  ever  fetched 
a  pout  out  of  Algy.  "  See  here!  "  says  he. 
"  You  come  up  to  Henry's  with  me  now,  and 
I'll  show  you  whether  I  can  shoot  or  not!  ' 

Well,  just  for  the  fun  of  it,  I  let  Algy  tow 
me  up  to  a  gallery  on  Eighth-ave.  I  stood  one 
side  while  the  boss  dug  out  a  special  gun  that 
he  seemed  to  keep  reserved  for  him.  It  wa'n't 
any  .22-short  affair,  but  a  real  blue  steel  baby 
cannon  with  life  sized  bullets.  And,  while  I 
ain't  any  judge,  I  should  say  by  the  way  Algy 
rung  the  bell  and  blew  up  the  clay  pipes  that 
he  was  some  crack. 

' '  Good  work !  ' '  says  I.  ' '  You  must  have 
burned  some  powder  here." 


WHEN  ALGY  WAS  IN  LINE         31 

"  Ask  Henry,"  says  he.  "  It  was  nearly  five 
years  ago  that  he  began  to  teach  me  to  shoot.'* 

"  What  about  ridin'  them  buckin'  bronchos, 
though?  "  says  I.  "  You  know  they  don't  herd 
steers  in  taxicabs." 

"  But  I  can  ride  some  too,"  says  Algy. 
"  You  shall  see.  Come  up  to  Morland's." 

"  Morland's,  eh?  "  says  I.  "  Say,  Algy,  why 
the  disguise?  Why  didn't  you  tell  us  you  was 
a  plute  sport?  " 

"I'm  one  of  the  evening  instructors  there, 
that's  all,"  says  he.  "  Of  course,  I  had  to  pay 
at  first;  but  I  got  them  to  give  me  lessons  at 
odd  times  for  half  price.  And,  say,  they've 
just  brought  in  a  new  mustang  that's  rather 
lively.  If  you  don't  mind  waiting  a  few  min- 
utes, too,  I'll  get  into  my  cowboy  costume  and 
bring  out  my  lariat." 

Say,  there  was  no  hot  air  about  Algy's  talk. 
He  produced  the  goods.  I  couldn't  hardly  be- 
lieve it  was  him,  either,  with  them  fringed 
things  on  his  legs,  and  the  spurs  and  the  wide 
brimmed  hat.  Honest,  he  looked  the  part,  and 
the  stunts  he  did  on  that  wicked  eyed  little 
mustang  you  wouldn't  believe.  Then  when  it 
come  to  the  lasso  business  he  had  me  with  my 
tongue  out  for  fair.  You've  seen  'em  twirl  the 
rope  in  them  gunpowder  shows  they  used  to 
have  at  the  Garden,  makin'  a  loop  and  jumpin' 
through  it,  and  all  that?  Well,  what  does 


32  TRYING  OUT  TORCHY 

Algy  do  but  jump  the  blamed  pony  through  his 
loop,  and  him  in  the  saddle  all  the  time. 

11  And  you  mean  to  say  you've  always  lived 
in  New  York,  too?  "  says  I. 

"  I've  never  been  west  of  Paterson,"  says 
Algy.  ' '  But,  you  see,  this  is  the  sort  of  thing 
I've  lived  for.  I've  spent  all  my  spare  time 
and  money  on  it,  so  as  to  be  ready  when  my 
chance  came.  Now,  take  throwing  the  rope; 
an  ex-cowboy  whom  I  found  working  in  a 
livery  stable  taught  me  to  do  that.  But  I  had 
to  practice  hours  and  hours,  week  in  and  week 
out.  I  was  bound  to  get  it,  though. ' ' 

"  Guess  you  have,"  says  I.  "  Algy,  you're 
a  wonder!  Still,  when  it  comes  to  mixin'  with 
one  of  them  ranch  crowds,  I  can  see  your 
finish. ' ' 

"  Oh,  I  guess  I  can  take  care  of  myself," 
says  he.  ''I'm  going  to  try,  anyhow." 

I  expect,  too,  if  it  hadn't  been  for  this  little 
session  with  Algy,  I'd  never  noticed  the  argu- 
ment a  pair  of  gents  was  havin'  in  the  seat 
across  from  me,  ridin'  down  in  the  Subway. 
One  was  a  tall,  flashy  dressed  party,  and  the 
other  was  a  short,  thickset  duck  that  answers 
to  the  name  of  Mandelbaum  and  converses 
mostly  with  his  hands. 

"  Veil,  fire  him,  vy  don'd  you?  "  says  Man- 
delbaum. 

"  After  me  bringin'  him  clear  on  from  San 


WHEN  ALGY  WAS  IN  LINE         33 

Antonio  to  play  the  part?  "  says  the  other. 
"  You  said  get  the  real  thing,  and  he's  it.  Any- 
way, he  has  a  reputation  as  a  gun  fighter,  and 
claims  to  be  the  champion  broncho  buster  and 
lariat  juggler  of  ten  counties.  But  he  missed 
three  rehearsals  this  week,  and  we  can't  have 
him  spoil  three  thousand  feet  of  films  on  us, 
can  we?  " 

'  *  Veil,  fire  him,  fire  him !  ' '  insists  Mandel- 
baum. 

"  But,  my  dear  man,"  says  the  other,  "  I 
can't  go  out  on  Broadway  and  pick  up  cowboys 
at  a  moment's  notice.  Who  can  I  get  to  fill 
Ms  place?  " 

11  Excuse  me  for  buttin'  in,"  says  I,  "  but 
maybe  I've  got  the  answer." 

It  was  a  brassy  thing  to  do,  I  admit;  but  I'd 
got  more  or  less  int 'rested  in  Algy's  case,  and 
it  was  worth  a  chance.  After  starin'  a  minute 
they  gave  me  an  openin',  and  first  thing  I  knew 
we  was  each  statin'  our  case.  Seems  this  Mr. 
Kreegan,  which  was  the  name  of  the  other  gent, 
was  up  against  it.  He  was  manager  of  a  big 
movin'  picture  outfit  and  had  a  bunch  of  forty 
people  somewhere  over  on  Long  Island  re- 
hearsin'  for  one  of  them  film  dramas, — "  The 
Cowboy's  Wooing,"  or  something  like  that. 

He  explains  how  they  was  sparin'  no  ex- 
pense to  get  the  right  people  for  the  leadin* 
roles,  which  was  why  he'd  brought  on  this  Bed 


•54  TRYING  OUT  TOECHY 

River  Bill  from  so  far  away.  But  Bill  had  got 
the  shine  of  the  white  lights  in  his  eyes  so  bad 
he  couldn't  see  anything  dimmer 'n  illuminated 
cafe  signs,  and  he  wa'n't  lettin'  rehearsals 
bother  him  at  all.  Hence  the  furrowed  brow 
on  Kreegan.  Also  that  was  why  he  was  willin'  i 
to  listen  to  my  description  of  Algy's  stunts. 

"  Huh!  "  says  he,  after  I've  sketched  out  the 
shootin'  gallery  and  ridin'  academy  acts. 
"  But  is  he  the  real  thing?  " 

'  *  Ah,  say !  ' '  says  I.  * '  Would  I  know  him  if 
he  was?  Course  he  ain't.  But  he  can  look  the 
part,  and  when  it  comes  to  puttin'  up  a  classy 
Wild  West  performance — well,  you  ought  to 
see  him,  that's  all." 

' '  Vy  nod  I  ' '  says  Mandelbaum.  '  *  Maybe  ve 
could  get  him  cheap." 

"  That's  so,"  says  Kreegan.  "  See  here, 
Son,  when  could  we — " 

"  Eight  now,"  says  I.  "  Here;  change  at 
14th  and  jump  an  uptown  express.  We'll 
catch  him  before  he  leaves  the  academy." 

It  was  a  queer  thing  for  me  to  be  doin', 
towin'  a  pair  of  strangers  up  to  meet  Algy;  but 
that  story  of  his  about  how  he  'd  always  wanted 
a  chance  to  play  the  real  man  kind  of  got  me 
shinnyin'  on  Algy's  side.  Course,  I  knew  he 
didn't  have  it  in  him  to  make  good  as  the 
genuine  article;  but  here  was  an  openin'  that 
seemed  to  fit  him  to  the  life.  Actin'  the  cow- 


WHEN  ALGY  WAS  IN  LINE         35 

boy  would  probably  satisfy  all  that  secret 
yearnin'  of  his;  and,  anyway,  it  would  be  a 
lot  safer  for  him. 

So,  inside  of  half  an  hour  Algy  was  goin' 
through  his  whole  bag  of  tricks  again.  Did  he 
make  a  hit?  Why,  Kreegan  was  tickled  to 
death! 

"  Great!  "  says  he.  "  He's  the  slickest  rope 
handler  in  the  business,  and  if  we  can  get  those 
stunts  on  the  films  we'll  have  '  The  Great  Train 
Robbery  '  beaten  to  a  frazzle.  How  about  offer- 
ing him  seventy-five  a  week?  " 

"  Make  it  fifty,"  suggests  Mandelbaum. 

And,  in  spite  of  my  tryin'  to  give  Algy  the 
holdout  signal,  he  signs  up  for  that  on  the  spot. 
Can  you  blame  him?  He'd  been  drawin'  down 
about  that  much  a  month  at  the  Corrugated. 

"  Good!  "  says  Kreegan.  "  There's  a  check 
for  the  first  week  in  advance.  Report  at  ten 
sharp  to-morrow  morning.  I'll  hunt  up  Red 
River  Bill  and  fire  him  to-night.  He  '11  be  sore, 
I  expect;  but  if  he  comes  around  making  any 
trouble,  I'll  have  him  put  away." 

Which  last  remark  begins  to  worry  me  more 
or  less,  right  from  the  start.  Course,  I  wa'n't 
exactly  responsible  for  Algy's  gen'ral  health; 
but  if  I'd  been  and  let  him  in  for  a  muss  with 
this  Bill  party,  and  anything  sudden  should 
happen — well,  it  wouldn't  be  nice. 

11  Look  here,  Mr.  Kreegan,"  says  I,  takin' 


36 

him  one  side,  "  just  remember  that  my  friend 
ain't  used  to  bein'  handled  rough." 

"  Oh,  we'll  look  out  for  him,  all  right,"  says 
Kreegan.  "  And  I'm  much  obliged  to  you  for 
putting  us  next.  Eeckon  I  owe  you  five  or  so 
as  a  commission  for — " 

"  Nix,"  says  I.  "  Spend  it  on  keepin'  Algy 
from  gettin'  punctured." 

And  the  more  I  thought  the  thing  over,  the 
uneasier  I  got.  My  first  move,  of  course,  is 
to  tell  Old  Hickory  what  had  become  of  his 
private  stenographer,  and  as  soon  as  he  found 
he'd  got  rid  of  him  for  good,  he  begins  remem- 
berin'  Algy's  good  points,  too.  Also  he  has 
the  same  suspicions  I  do  about  what  this  Bed 
Kiver  gent  might  hand  to  Algy  if  he  got  fussin' 
around. 

About  the  third  day  after  he  calls  me  in  and 
wants  to  know  if  I've  heard  anything  from  Al- 
gernon. 

"  Not  a  word,"  says  I.  "  There  ain't  been 
any  accounts  in  the  papers,  either." 

"  A  case  of  that  kind  might  be  hushed  up, 
though,"  says  Mr.  Ellins.  "  Meanwhile, 
there's  no  telling  what  they've  done  to  him, 
he's  such  a  helpless  creature.  I'll  tell  you, 
Torchy,  you  had  better  look  up  this  moving 
picture  firm  and  make  some  inquiries." 

That  was  enough  for  me.  With  a  chilly 
feelin'  down  the  spine  I  starts  off  to  find  out 


WHEN  ALGY  WAS  IN  LINE         37 

tlie  worst.  They  had  a  Broadway  office,  and 
I  pikes  right  for  it.  By  luck  I  nails  Kreegan 
just  as  he's  comin'  out  of  the  entrance. 

"  Hey,  you!  "  says  I,  grabbin'  him  by  the 
elbow.  "  Is — is  Algy  all  right?  " 

"  Is  he?  "  says  Kreegan,  rubbin'  his  hands 
enthusiastic.  "  Why,  he's  a  topliner!  We're 
tryin'  to  sign  him  up  for  a  two  years'  con- 
tract." 

"  Then  he  ain't  been  shot  or  carved  up  by 
Boozy  Bill  yet?  "  says  I. 

"  What— him?  "  says  Kreegan.  "  Well, 
hardly !  Oh,  Bill  came  around,  all  right,  loaded 
for  trouble ;  but  he  hadn  't  much  more  than  stated 
his  grievance  and  let  out  a  few  yelps  before 
that  Algy  of  yours  had  roped  him  and  dragged 
him  through  a  creek.  Yes,  Sir,  slam  bang 
through  four  feet  of  muddy  water,  and  if  we'd 
had  the  picture  machine  trained  on  the  scene 
I'd  have  given  a  thousand  dollars.  Bill?  The 
last  we  saw  of  him  he  was  headed  southwest, 
running  like  a  scared  pup.  Say,  you  can  trust 
Algy.  All  I  wish  is  that  we  could  count  on 
him  for  the  rest  of  the  season." 

"  Why,  he  ain't  goin'  to  quit,  is  he?  "  says  I. 

11  I'm  afraid  so,"  says  Kreegan.  "  It's  all 
Mrs.  Managan's  fault — Panhandle  Kate,  you 
know,  who  does  the  fancy  gun  shooting  for  us. 
She's  a  widow,  and  quite  a  looker.  Used  to 
travel  with  the  big  tent  shows;  but  now  she 


38  TRYING  OUT  TOECHY 

owns  a  ranch  of  her  own  down  in  the  long  grass 
country,  and  she  only  does  this  for  the  fun  of 
the  thing.  She  took  a  shine  to  Algy  that  first 
day,  and  they've  been  getting  thicker  and 
thicker  ever  since.  It's  a  match,  I  reckon,  and 
as  soon  as  we  run  off  this  set  of  films  I  expect 
they'll  both  be  quitting.  Your  Algy  will  be 
bossing  a  fifty-thousand-dollar  ranch  by  this 
time  next  month.  And,  say,  I  pity  the  fresh 
cowpuncher  who  picks  him  out  for  a  softy. 
He's  more  or  less  of  a  man,  Algy  is." 

What  do  you  know,  eh?  Algy!  Think  of  it! 
Well,  wishin'  and  tryin'  will  do  wonders  some- 
times, won't  they? 


CHAPTER  III 

TBYING  A  WIZAKD  STUNT 

SAY,  maybe  you '11  think  I'm  onlybreathin5  it 
gusts  of  wind;  but  some  of  these  gentle  spijig 
days  I'm  goin'  to  be  discovered  for  the  buddin' 
young  wizard  of  finance  that  I  really  am,  and 
then — well,  I  don't  know  whether  they'll  re- 
lease the  Second  Vice,  or  dig  up  a  new  position 
for  me.  Anyway,  I  can  almost  see  myself  in  a 
swing  chair  pushin'  the  button  for  Piddie. 

And  I  ain't  buildin'  on  any  flossy  dream, 
either.  You  ask  Old  Hickory  Ellins  for  my 
present  ratin'  with  the  Corrugated.  He'll  tell 
you — maybe.  Anyhow,  it  was  the  first  time  a 
really  truly  business  proposition  was  batted  up 
to  me,  and  I  just —  Well,  here's  the  way  it 
was. 

Things  had  been  dull  and  quiet  with  us  for 
near  a  week,  with  nothin'  more  excitin'  hap- 
penin'  on  our  floor  than  one  of  the  lady  typists 
flashin'  an  engagement  ring,  or  Piddie 's  post- 
in'  a  new  set  of  rules,  when  here  the  other 
afternoon  the  big  boss  comes  paddin'  out  of 
his  room  moppin'  his  neck  and  glarin'  holes 
through  the  atmosphere. 

39 


40  TRYING  OUT  TORCHY 

"  Anyone  know  where  Mr.  Robert  is?  "  he 
demands. 

Piddie  didn't,  and  admits  it  nervous.  No- 
body else  dares  peep;  so  it  was  up  to  me. 

"  Ain't  he  out  tunin'  up  his  sixty-footer  for 
the  regatta  next  week?  "  says  I. 

"  Huh!  "  growls  Old  Hickory.  "So  he  is. 
But  what  of  Mr.  Prentice  and  Mr.  Mallory — • 
they  yacht  racing  too?  " 

Which  was  where  Piddie  comes  to  the  front 
strong  with  all  the  details  about  how  Mr.  Mal- 
lory had  been  sent  to  Baltimore  to  round  up 
that  transportation  deal,  and  how  Mr.  Prentice 
had  been  given  a  week's  leave  to — 

"That's  enough!"  snaps  Mr.  Ellins. 
"  They're  not  on  hand.  But  who  in  the  name 
of  the  seven  suffering  sisters  is  left  to  transact 
the  outside  business!  Who,  eh?  Torchy, 
here?  " 

He's  facin'  Piddie  and  witherin'  him  up  with 
his  sarcastic  remarks,  specially  this  last  one. 
But  it's  that  partic'lar  dig  that  gets  under  my 
skin. 

"  Why  not  me?  "  says  I. 

"  Eh?  "  says  Old  Hickory,  whirlin'  around 
and  snappin'  his  heavy  jaws  savage. 

"  Ah,  it  ain't  carryin'  a  trunk,  is  it?  "  says 
I.  "  But  if  it's  an  errand  callin'  for  dome 
work — " 

"  By  the  great  fried  fritter!  "  he  breaks  in, 


TKYING  A  WIZAED  STUNT         41 

"  I've  a  mind  to  try  you,  Boy!  Come  in  here 
with  me!  ' 

I  expect  Piddie  didn't  get  his  breath  for  min- 
utes after  that;  but  I  trots  in  on  the  rug  and 
waits  calm  while  the  old  man  lights  a  fresh 
Corona. 

"  Ever  hear  of  Marquette  Smelters?  "  says 
he. 

"  Hundred  and  sixteen  bid,  no  sales,"  says 
I,  givin'  him  the  last  quotation  from  the  tape, 
just  as  I'd  seen  it  come  off  as  I  was  watchin* 
for  the  result  of  the  fourth  inning  in  Chicago. 

"  Humph!  "  says  he,  tryin'  not  to  seem 
jarred.  "  Perhaps  you  could  tell  me  too  why 
there  were  no  sales;  but  you  needn't  bother. 
I'll  tell  you.  The  real  reason  is  a  person  by 
the  name  of  Dudley  K.  Morrison,  who  has  the 
limited  intelligence  of  a  jack  rabbit  and  the 
disposition  of  a  mule.  Got  that  far?  ' 

"I'm  right  on  your  heels,"  says  I. 

"  Wish  you  were  on  Morrison's,"  grumbles 
Old  Hickory,  "  and  could  hang  there  until  he 
gave  us  a  civil  answer  as  to  whether  or  not 
he'll  sell  us  his  block  of  Smelters!  He  doesn't 
answer  letters,  and  no  one  seems  able  to  run 
him  down.  I  must  know  before  ten  A.M.  to- 
morrow, too.  In  fact,  we've  simply  got  to  have 
those  Morrison  shares.  Now  if  you  have  brains 
as  brilliant  as  your  hair,  let's  hear  what  you 
can  produce  in  the  way  of  suggestions." 


42  TRYING  OUT  TORCHY 

**  As  a  starter,"  says  I,  "  why  not  offer 
seventeen?  " 

"  Huh!  "  grunts  Mr.  Ellins,  swinging  back 
to  his  desk.  "  That's  enough  from  you!  "  And 
then  he  has  a  second  thought.  "  See  here, 
Boy,"  he  goes  on,  "I  suppose  I  am  an  old 
fool,  wasting  my  breath  like  this!  " 

"  Yes,  Sir,"  says  I.    "I  mean,  no,  Sir." 

"  Stick  to  the  first  idea,"  says  he,  "  only 
keep  it  to  yourself.  However,  I'm  going  to 
start  you  even  with  the  others.  Robert  re- 
ports that  this  Dudley  Morrison  is  a  middle 
aged  bachelor  who  inherited  this  Smelter  stock 
some  fifteen  years  ago,  and  has  been  quite  con- 
tent to  live  on  the  dividends  ever  since.  He 
knows  nothing  about  business,  and  is  more 
afraid  of  a  broker  than  he  is  of  the  devil.  He 
don't  know  whether  his  shares  are  quoted  at 
one  hundred  and  sixteen  or  forty-six,  and  he 
doesn't  seem  to  care.  Wouldn't  talk  to  Robert 
about  selling  them,  even  when  held  up  at  his 
club.  As  for  Prentice  and  Mallory,  they 
couldn't  get  within  speaking  distance  of  him. 
,  But  I  want  someone  to  make  one  last  desperate 
effort  to  get  at  him  before  I  give  up.  Anything 
to  offer?  " 

"  Sure,"  says  I.  l'  Camp  on  his  trail,  find  his 
weak  spot,  and  then  rush  him  off  his  feet. ' ' 

"  Sounds  good,"  says  Old  Hickory.  "  Go 
doit!" 


TRYING  A  WIZARD  STUNT         43 

"  Eh?  "  says  I,  gaspin'. 

"  You  volunteered,"  says  he,  "  and  I've  told 
you  all  I  know  of  the  case.  You  are  free  to 
use  persuasion,  chloroform,  or  a  club.  I  don't 
care  a  hang  how  you  get  'em,  if  you  bring  me 
those  shares." 

"  Is  this  for  love  or  glory?  "  says  I. 

' '  Neither, ' '  says  he.  '  *  Half  of  one  per  cent. 
• — doubled. ' ' 

"  That  talks,"  says  I.  "  But  where  do  I  find 
this—" 

' '  How  the  blue  belted  blazes  do  I  know  where 
he  is!  "  growls  Old  Hickory.  "  Get  out!  " 

You'd  think,  to  hear  him,  that  he  had  rabies 
of  the  disposition;  but,  honest,  he  ain't  half  so 
grouchy  as  he  thinks  he  is,  and  while  I  expect 
he  didn't  look  for  any  action  on  my  part,  he 
was  tickled  inside  because  I'd  tackled  the 
job. 

I  was  'way  over  my  head,  I  admit,  and  the 
more  I  splashed  around  the  deeper  in  I  got. 
Course,  I  sails  right  out  to  the  'phone  book 
and  starts  to  locate  Dudley;  but  he  didn't  have 
a  number.  Next  I  hauls  down  the  city  direc- 
tory, real  confident.  Hanged  if  he  hadn't 
dodged  that  too!  You  can,  you  know.  But  I 
wa'n't  through  yet.  On  Mr.  Robert's  desk  was 
half  a  dozen  club  annuals,  and  in  the  third 
list  I  digs  up  Mr.  Morrison's  name  and  ad- 
dress. 


44  TRYING  OUT  TORCHY 

"Ah-ha!"  says  I.  "Bachelors'  quarters, 
I'll  bet!  Me  for  a  look!  " 

Ever  stand  outside  a  strange  house  and  won- 
der what  bluff  you're  goin'  to  throw  to  get  in, 
or  what  you'll  say  to  your  man  if  you  do?  It 
ain't  any  more  use  than  lookin'  at  the  back  of 
next  month's  calendar  to  see  what's  going  to 
happen.  The  only  thing  to  do  is  push  in  and 
use  your  bean.  So  I  marches  up  the  steps  and 
rings  the  bell. 

The  old  boy  on  the  door  was  a  wise  old  gink, 
all  right;  one  of  these  hard  faced,  sleuth  eyed 
watchdogs,  who  was  trained  to  scent  out 
agents,  and  bill  collectors,  and  old  clothes  mer- 
chants, and  give  'em  the  quick  run.  Guess  he 
didn't  place  my  class;  but  he  eyes  me  sus- 
picious and  hostile. 

"  Morrison?  "  says  he,  like  he'd  never  heard 
the  name  before.  "  Dudley  K.  Morrison,  did 
you  say?  " 

"  Maybe  you'd  like  it  in  writin'?  "  says  I. 
11  Come,  you  ain't  so  new  here  you  don't  know 
the  old  tenants." 

"  I  don't  think  Mr.  Morrison  is  in," 
says  he. 

"  You  don't  have  to  think,"  says  I.  "  What 
for  would  he  'phone  for  me  to  come  around  if 
he  wa'n't  in,  eh?  " 

"  Ah!  Then  perhaps  I'd  better  see,"  says 
he. 


TRYING  A  WIZARD  STUNT         45 

"  Do,"  says  I.  "  Tell  him  how  you  held  me 
up  here  on  the  mat  and  put  me  through  the 
third  degree.  That'll  please  him  a  lot." 

"  Of  course,"  says  he,  "  if  you  have  an  en- 
gagement— er —  May  I  ask  why  you  wanted 
to  see — " 

"  Sure,"  says  I.  "  I'm  a  horse  doctor  in  dis- 
guise, and  I'm  goin'  to  cure  him  of  nightmares. 
Say,  how  should  I  know  what  Mr.  Morrison 
wants  of  me,  except  that  he's  in  a  hurry? 
But  keep  it  up,  Old  Top;  I  can  stand  it  if  he 
can." 

"  H-m-m-m!  "  says  he.  "  I'll  call  for  his 
man  to  come  down  and  show  you  up." 

11  Ah,  chop  it!  "  says  I,  shovin'  past  and 
startin'  for  the  stairs.  "  I'll  rout  his  man  out 
myself.  Second  floor,  ain't  it?  " 

"  Second,  front,"  says  he,  goin'  back  to  his 
chair,  prob'ly  thinkin'  he's  done  his  duty 
noble. 

But  I'd  frisked  the  outer  guard.  The  inside 
one  was  easier,  in  a  way,  and  then  again  he 
wa'n't.  I'd  knocked  twice  on  the  door  of  2 A 
suite,  and  was  just  gettin'  ready  to  hammer 
the  panel,  when  open  she  comes  and  I  finds  my- 
self bein'  bowed  in  polite  by  a  young  colored 
gent.  He's  a  classy  article,  all  dolled  up  in  a 
neat  linen  suit  that  looks  real  summery,  and  he 
has  his  thick,  wavy  black  hair  brushed  back  in 
>a  reg'lar  Jimmy  Artboy  pompadour.  His  com- 


46  TRYING  OUT  TORCHY 

plexion,  though,  is  the  regulation  Pullman  por. 
ter  black;  but,  for  all  his  meek  way  of  waitin* 
for  me  to  open  the  conversation,  there's  some- 
thing diamified  and  genteel  about  him. 

"  Thanks,  Rufus,"  says  I,  steppin'  inside, 
"  How  about  the  big  chief,  eh?  " 

"  Please,  Suh?  "  he  comes  back,  lettin'  his 
voice  slide  up  at  the  end  curious. 

"  Please  which?  "  says  I.  "  Oh,  you  want 
a  repeat  on  that,  do  you  f  Well,  the  main  works 
then,  the  boss,  Mr.  Morrison — he's  in,  ain't 
he?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,  Suh,"  says  Eufus,  "  'e's  tyking 
'is  barth,  Suh."  And,  say,  I'd  give  a  dollar  to 
get  that  off  just  the  way  he  did ;  but  if  you  can 
imagine  hearin'  a  stage  Englishman  singsong- 
in'  it  through  a  phonograph,  you'll  get  some- 
where near  how  this  particular  brand  of  Cock- 
ney talk  sounded. 

"  Rufus,"  says  I,  "  are  you  practicin'  that 
on  me,  or  is  it  all  natural?  ' 

"  Please,  Suh?  "  says  he  once  more,  lookin' 
puzzled. 

"  Not  guilty,"  says  I.  "  You  act  too  inno- 
cent to  be  springin'  an  accent  like  that  unless 
it  grew  on  you.  But  where  did  you  bring  it 
over  from?  " 

"  You   wish   to   know   where   is   my 
Suh?  "  says  he. 

"  Uh-huh,"  says  I. 


" 


TRYING  A  WIZARD  STUNT         47  ' 

( 
Jamaica,  Suh,"  says  he. 

I  see,"  says  I.  "  Where  we  get  our 
bananas  and  elevator  boys  from.  All  British 
down  there,  are  you,  black  and  white!  " 

"  Oh,  yes,  Suh,"  says  he,  grinnin'. 

"  Well,"  says  I,  "  I've  heard  some  of  your 
kind  that  could  make  English  sound  like  a  for- 
eign language;  but  you've  got  a  Lord  Chumley 
twist  on  it  for  fair.  Then  I  expect  your  real 
name  ain't  Rufus  at  all?  " 

"  Eustis  Zink,  Suh,"  says  he. 

"  Have  I  used  the  sink?  "  says  I. 

'  '  He-hu-s-t-hi-s  —  Eustis  ;  Zed-hi-hen-k  —  • 
Zink,"  says  he,  a  trifle  ruffled. 

'  '  Clear  as  mud  !  '  '  says  I.  '  '  My  fault,  Eus- 
tis ;  but  you  fed  it  to  me  a  little  swift  that  first 
time.  Now,  to  get  back  where  we  started: 
Mr.  Morrison's  sportin'  in  the  tub,  is  he1? 
Didn't  look  for  me  around  quite  so  soon, 
eh?  " 

"  I  dare  say,  Suh,"  says  he.  "  Was  the  mas- 
ter hexpecting  you,  Suh?  " 

"  Do  I  look  like  a  surprise  party,  Eustis?  " 
says  I.  "Is  this  where  I  wait?  " 

"  If  you  please,  Suh,"  says  he. 

He  had  his  manners  right  with  him,  Eustis 
did;  dusts  off  a  chair,  runs  the  window  shade 
up,  and  lugs  over  a  supply  of  papers  and  maga- 
zines enough  to  keep  me  busy  for  a  months 
Then  he  fa.des  into  a  little  alcove  real  respect-* 


48  TRYING  OUT  TOECHY 

fnl,  and  I  hears  him  rattlin'  a  newspaper  him' 
self. 

All  of  which  was  well  enough;  as  far  as  it 
went.  I  was  camping  on  the  trail  and  I  had  my 
man  located  in  his  bathtub.  This  gives  me  a 
nice  breathin'  spell  to  frame  up  a  plan  for 
gettin'  Dudley  K.  to  see  the  beauty  of  unload- 
in'  his  Smelters  on  the  Corrugated  before  the 
market  got  topheavy  and  tumbled.  But  what 
openin'  to  use  that  wouldn't  get  me  chucked 
out  on  the  street  sudden  was  a  sticker. 

Meanwhile  I  could  hear  distant  splashin' 
sounds  that  kept  gettin'  fainter  and  fainter. 
Then  come  the  gurgle  of  the  last  pint  of  suds 
swirlin'  down  the  waste  pipe,  and  I  knew  Dud- 
ley must  be  out  on  the  mat  busy  with  the  Turk- 
ish towel.  Still  no  brilliant  thought  comes  my 
way,  and  out  where  me  and  Mr.  Zink  waited 
there  was  no  noise  except  now  and  then  when 
Eustis  turned  a  fresh  page.  Get  the  picture? 

And,  say,  nothin'  wears  on  my  nerves  quite 
so  much  as  a  silent  wait  like  that.  I  got  to 
watchin'  the  clock,  and  figurin'  out  how  many 
minutes  it  would  be  before  this  mysterious  Mr, 
Morrison  would  be  out  demandin'  who  and 
why.  I'd  allow  him  about  ten  to  dress  in. 
That  got  whittled  down  to  six,  then  to  four, 
and  then—  Well,  about  then  Eustis  lets  go  of 
the  first  sob. 

First  off  I  thought  it  might  be  another  gur- 


TRYING  A  WIZABD  STUNT         49 

> 
gle  from  the  tub ;  but  when  the  second  one  came 

I  knew  it  filtered  out  from  the  alcove.  And  it 
sure  sounded  like  grief.  Followin'  this  was  a 
couple  of  sniffles,  kind  of  half  smothered. 
Course,  you  might  say  it  was  nothin'  to  me  if 
a  darky  valet  saw  fit  to  enjoy  his  off  time  blub- 
berin';  but  feelin's  is  feelin's,  no  matter  who 
has  'em. 

So  I  tiptoes  over  and  peeks  in.  There's 
Eustis,  with  his  arms  spread  out  on  the  table, 
his  head  down,  his  shoulders  heavin',  and  all 
the  signs  of  deep  woe  in  evidence.  Havin'  gone 
that  far,  I  couldn't  do  any  less  than  pass  some 
cheerin'  remark. 

"What  ho!"  says  I.  "  Tea-uhs,  idle 
tea-uhs!  " 

Business  of  surprise  by  Eustis.  He  lifts  a 
black  face  that's  a  perfectly  good  map  of  all 
the  different  kinds  of  grief  you  could  name, — 
trembly  under  lip,  loose  jaw,  and  big  brown, 
leaky  eyes.  Ever  have  a  setter  dog  with  a 
hurt  paw  look  up  at  you  reproachful?  Some- 
thing like  that. 

"  Gee!  "  says  I.  "  Whatever  it  was  must 
have  gone  in  deep.  You  ain't  been  swallowin' 
your  haitches  again,  have  you?  " 

"  P-p-please,  Sun?  '  says  he,  shaky  and 
husky. 

"  Never  mind  my  joshin',"  says  I.  "  What's 
gone  wrong?  " 


/50  TRYING  OUT  TOBCHY 

"  Oh,  everything's  wrong,  Suh,"  says  he. 
"  I — I  cawn't  stand  it  any  longer,  Suh,  I  just 
'  cawn't!  " 

"  Sudden  attack,  ain't  it?  "  says  I.  "  Yon 
seemed  chirky  enough  a  few  minutes  ago. 
What's  happened  since  then!  Found  bad  news 
from  home  in  the  paper?  " 

"  Not  rightly  that,  Suh,"  says  he.  "  You— 
you  wouldn't  hunderstand,  Suh." 

"  Wouldn't  I,  though?  "  says  I.  "  Say,  Eus- 
tis,  for  a  quick  and  ready  understander  I'm  a 
topliner;  so,  if  it  ain't  anything  you'd  rather 
hide,  let  it  come.  Maybe  it'll  do  you  good. 
Find  it  in  the  obituary  notices,  did  you?  " 

"  Oh,  no,  Suh,"  says  he,  snufflin';  and  then, 
takin'  his  arms  off  the  paper  he  had  spread 
out,  "  It's— it's  that,  Suh." 

What  he  has  there  is  the  picture  section  of  a 
Sunday  edition,  and  the  special  halftone  he 
points  his  finger  at  shows  a  road  lined  with 
palm  trees.  It's  a  long,  white  road  that  trails 
off  into  the  distance  towards  some  mountains, 
and  in  the  foreground  you  could  make  out  a  lot 
of  darky  women,  some  leadin'  funny  little  don- 
keys with  baskets  slung  across  their  backs,  and 
others  balancin'  round  baskets  on  their  heads. 
But  I  couldn't  find  anything  to  start  the  brine 
in  my  eyes. 

"  Well,  what  about  it?  "  says  I. 

"  That's  the  old  Junction  Road,  Suh,"  says 


TRYING  A  WIZARD  STUNT         51 

Eustis.  "  Leads  down  from  the  mountains, 
Suh,  into  Kingston.  It's  market  day;  you  can 
tell  that  from  the  people  coming  in,  Suh.  See, 
they've  got  yams,  and  papaw,  and  mangos  in 
the  baskets,  Suh ;  and  guinea  grass  for  the  don- 
keys in  the  panniers,  Suh.  That'll  be  taken  up 
near  Rocky  Hill,  Suh,  just  beyond  the  big  cot- 
ton silk  tree,  Suh." 

' '  Oh,  ho !  "  says  I.  ' '  And  it  looks  some  fa- 
miliar to  you,  does  it?  Been  out  there,  I 
guess?  " 

"  Me,  Suh?  "  says  Eustis,  swabbin'  clear  his 
eyes  on  his  sleeve.  "  Why,  I  was  born  up 
along  Junction  Road,  Suh,  in  the  mountains, 
Suh;  and  many  a  time  I've  walked  it  too,  clear 
into  Kingston,  eighteen  miles,  Suh,  and  back 
again  before  nightfall!  Know  it,  Suh?  I  know 
every  foot  of  it !  " 

11  I  see,"  says  I.  "  But  you  hadn't  ought  to 
let  a  little  thing  like  gettin'  homesick  floor  you 
this  way.  Sure  that's  all?  " 

"  There's  Rosie,  Suh,"  says  he,  droppin'  his 
chin  again. 

"  Always  a  skirt  in  the  background,  ain't 
there?  "  says  I.  "  Does  she  figure  in  the  pic- 
ture? " 

"  No,  Suh,"  says  Eustis,  clappin'  his  hand 
on  his  inside  breast  pocket. 

11  But  you  got  one  on  you,  though?  "  says 
I.  "  Mind  my  havin'  a  squint?  " 


52  TRYING  OUT  TOECHY    • 

Somehow  I  was  curious  to  know  just  what 
sort  of  dusky  queen  it  would  take  to  work  up 
such  deep  emotions  in  Eustis.  He  explains 
that  it's  only  a  tourist's  snapshot  someone 
had  sent  Eosie,  and  he  drags  it  out  reluc- 
tant. 

"  Well,  say!  "  says  I,  holdin'  it  to  the  light. 
"  There  is  some  class  to  Eosie,  all  right!  ' 

And  it  wa'n't  all  jolly,  either ;  for,  accordin'  to 
the  photo,  she's  a  slender,  graceful  built  young 
bamboo  belle,  with  a  cheerful,  smilin'  face. 
She's  barefooted,  and  costumed  mostly  in  a 
one-piece  calico  wrapper,  and  she's  balancin* 
a  big  water  jar  jaunty  on  her  head. 

"  Yes,  yes!  "  I  goes  on.  "  She's  got  any  of 
these  Sixth-ave.  brunettes  faded  when  it  comes 
to  looks.  Waiting  for  you,  is  she!  " 

11  I  cawn't  certainly  say,  Suh,"  says  Eustis. 
"  She — she  said  she  would,  Suh." 

"  The  plot  thickens!  "  says  I.  "  Who's  the 
other  entry;  anyway,  the  one  you  last  heard 
of?  " 

"  There  was  that  Foster  man,"  says  Eustis. 
'*  'E's  lately  got  on  the  constabulary  force, 
Suh — a  policeman,  Suh." 

1 '  Hard  luck !  ' '  says  I.  "On  the  ground  and 
sportin '  brass  buttons !  Do  they  get  their  cop- 
pers up  like  we  do  ours?  " 

"  Oh,  no,  Suh,"  says  he.  "  White  coats, 
Suh;  white  sun  helmets,  with  a  big  brass  shield 


TRYING  A  WIZARD  STUNT         53 

in  front,  Suh;  wide  stripes  on  the  trousers; 
quite  grand,  Suh." 

"I'm  sorry  to  say  it,"  says  I;  "  but  I  can 
see  this  Foster  person  just  throwin'  his  chest 
out  and  scatterin'  heartaches  all  along  Junc- 
tion Road.  Eustis,  how  was  it  you  ever  figured 
on  giving  the  gate  to  a  winner  like  that? 
What's  your  long  suit?  " 

Mr.  Zink,  he  shrugs  his  shoulders  doleful. 
"  Constables  get  very  small  pay,  Suh,  a  few 
shillings*  a  week.  And  Rosie  would  not  like, 
the  city.  She  is  a  country  girl,  Suh.  I  am  of 
the  country  too.  First  I  worked  in  the  big 
hotels;  then  I  became  a  valet,  Suh.  But  not 
for  all  the  time.  I  save  what  I  get,  Suh — tips, 
all  that,  and  perhaps  some  day  I  can  buy  a 
small  plantation  out  Wag  Water  River  way, 
Suh.  I  have  one  in  mind,  Suh;  nice  cottage, 
Suh,  bamboo,  and  plastered  sides,  with  good 
thatch  on  the  roof.  Behind  there  is  a  big  mango 
tree,  Suh,  and  cocoanuts,  five,  six,  seven.  On 
one  side  grows  a  royal  palm,  Suh,  forty,  fifty, 
feet  high.  Climbing  over  the  door  is  a  bougain- 
villea  vine,  purple  blossoms  all  the  year;  very 
^fine,  Suh.  There  will  be  ten  acres,  Suh,  all 
good  for  bananas,  cocoa,  or  yams.  An  acre 
bears  many  pounds,  Suh,  out  on  Wag  Water, 
if  you  plant^it  right ;  many  pounds  every  year, 
Suh.  Rosie  would  like  it  out  in  the  Blue  Moun- 
$ains,  Suh." 


54 

"  Does  sound  more  or  less  fascinatin',' '  says 
I.  "  But  ain't  the  work  hard?  Strikes  me 
you've  got  quite  a  snap  here!  ' 

"  Bah!  "  says  Eustis.  "  I  am  sick  to  death 
of  it !  Really,  Suh !  And  Mr.  Morrison — such 
a  gentleman,  Suh!  ' 

"  Eh?  "  says  I.  "A  rounder,  is  he?  Come 
in  late  and  rough  house  you,  does  he?  " 

Eustis  almost  smiles  at  that.  "  Oh,  no,  Suh; 
lives  like  a  turtle  in  his  shell,  Suh.  Look  you, 
Suh!  I  give  'im  'is  coffee  at  ten,  then  he  'as 
'is  barth  and  shaves,  and  'is  ride  in  the  park, 
Suh.  'E's  away  at  'is  club  until  three;  then  'e 
'as  'is  nap,  Suh,  and  'is  barth  again,  which  'e's 
at  now,  Suh.  'E'll  go  out  at  seven,  and  be  in 
prompt  at  twelve,  Suh,  and  asleep  by  'alf  after. 
Day  after  day,  Suh!  It  comes  cruel  'ard  on 
me,  Suh,  standing  the  beastly  climate  and  'av- 
ing  no  change,  Suh,  and  always  stewing  about 
the  rooms,  Suh.  'E's  as  fussy  about  'imself  as 
an  old  woman,  Suh.  One  would  almost  think 
Mr.  Morrison  would  sicken  of  it  all  a  bit,  Suh. ' ' 

"By  Jove!  he  does,  though,  he  does!' 
drawls  out  a  deep  voice  behind  us. 

Course,  I  knew  it  must  be  Dudley  K.,  stand- 
in'  there  in  his  bathrobe  with  kind  of  an  amused 
look  flickerin'  in  his  dull  gray  eyes.  He  ain't 
young,  and  he  ain't  old,  and  he'd  never  be 
accused  of  bein'  handsome.  His  hair  is 
streaked  up  some,  and'  he  looks  bored  and  life- 


TRYING  A  WIZARD  STUNT         55 

less,  and  he  has  a  bulgy  nose,  and  one  shoulder's 
higher 'n  the  other.  There's  no  telling  how 
long  he's  been  listening. 

"  Go  on,"  says  he.    "  Let's  hear  the  rest." 

"I'm  not  caring,  Suh,"  says  Eustis,  facin' 
him  bold.  "I'm  through  with  it  all — fussing 
with  you,  Suh,  getting  your  blooming  barth 
just  right,  and  all  the  rest.  I'm  through  with 
this  beastly,  dusty  hole  of  a  city.  I  want  to 
get  back  to  the  palms,  and  the  old  white  Junc- 
tion Road,  and  the  Blue  Mountains." 

"  And  Rosie?  "  puts  in  Morrison,  still  smil- 
in'  weary. 

Eustis  shrugs  his  shoulders.  "  I  might  rent 
an  acre  or  two  with  what  I've  got  now,"  says 
he.  "  Anyway,  it  would  be  living." 

"  Good  point,"  says  Morrison.  "  Why 
haven't  you  mentioned  this  before,  Zink? 
Rather  an  attractive  picture  you  draw  of  your 
native  island.  And  do  you  think  that  money 
invested  in  land  down  there  would  pay?  " 

"Why  not,  Suh?"  says  Eustis.  "You 
should  see  the  way  things  grow,  Suh !  ' ' 

"  Um-m-m-m!  "  says  Morrison,  his  chin  in 
one  hand.  * '  I  suppose  you  could  show  me  how 
to  run  a  plantation  of  that  sort?  ' 

"  Oh,  would  you  give  me  a  chance,  Suh?  " 
says  Eustis  eager. 

"  Might  knock  together  a  bungalow  fit  to 
live  in,  I've  no  doubt,"  goes  on  Morrison, 


56  TRYING  OUT  TORCHY 

thinkin'  out  loud.  "  It  would  give  me  some- 
thing to  do,  at  least.  Guess  that's  what  I  need, 
after  all.  I've  been  meaning  to  try  the  Tropics 
too,  and —  "Well,  we'll  talk  it  over.  Mean- 
while, Zink,"  and  he  turns  to  me,  "  who  might 
this  young  man  be!  " 

"  Please,  Suh,  I  don't  know,  Suh,"  says 
Eustis. 

11  Well?  "  says  Morrison. 

But  I'd  got  my  clew  at  last.  "  Me?  "  says 
I.  "  Why,  I'm  the  next  leaf  on  the  pad." 

"  Indeed!  "  says  he.  "  Then  this  must  be  a 
red  letter  day." 

11  S0y,  you  win,"  says  I.  "I  picked  you  for 
a  dead  one;  but,  honest,  you're  a  live  wire." 

Gets  a  good  humored  motion  in  Morrison's 
mouth  corners,  that  does.  "  Thank  you,"  says 
he.  "  But  why  am  I  indebted  to  you  for — " 

"  Your  lucky  day,"  says  I.  "  See?  You're 
liable  to  be  wantin'  to  hike  out  for  Jamaica 
to  give  that  plantation  stunt  a  whirl.  In  that 
case  you're  likely  to  cash  in  them  Smelter 
shares,  eh?  ' 

'  *  By  George !  But  I  was  just  puzzling  ovei 
that,"  says  he. 

"Don't!"  says  I.  "The  Corrugated  will 
fix  that  for  you.  There's  our  card.  We'll  let 
you  unload  on  us.  Bother?  Why,  gettin'  a 
quarter  changed  into  nickels  at  a  picture  ar- 
tade  won't  be  in  it.  Come  around  in  the  morn- 


TRYING  A  WIZARD  STUNT         57 

ing  and — no,  suppose  I  call  for  you  about 
eleven  A.M.  in  a  taxi  and  tow  you  over  for  a  talk 
with  our  president,  Mr.  Ellins?  It'll  be  all  the 
same  if  you  do  or  don't.  How  about  it?  " 

Did  I  land  him?  Why,  say,  between  me 
showin'  him  how  easy  it  was,  and  Eustis  pump- 
in'  him  full  of  descriptions  about  wavin'  palms 
and  blue  mountains  and  white  roads,  I  almost 
had  to  hold  him  back.  And  it  wa'n't  ten  min- 
utes from  the  time  I  leads  him  in  until  he's 
closed  the  deal  and  is  out  shakin'  hands  and 
biddin'  me  good-by.  Later  on  Eustis  drifts 
around  to  assure  me  that,  with  him  bossin'  a 
big  banana  plantation,  wearin'  a  wide  brimmed 
hat,  and  ridin'  a  horse  of  his  own,  that  cheap 
Foster  person  won't  be  anywhere  in  sight.  So 
altogether  that  afternoon's  work  scored  some. 

11  Son,'7  says  Old  Hickory,  as  he  shoves 
across  the  table  that  whackin'  big  commission 
check,  "I'm  not  asking  how  you  did  it,  for  it 
seems  too  all  fired  prompt  and  weird  to  have 
been  strictly  according  to  Hoyle;  but  if  you 
can  keep  out  of  jail  long  enough  you  have  a 
great  future  before  you. ' ' 

"  That's  what  I'm  diggin'  in  my  toes  tc 
overtake,"  says  L 


CHAPTER  IV 

UNDER    WAY    WITH    UNCLE    ROD 

COURSE,  all  kinds  drifts  up  to  the  brass  gate, 
and  my  specialty  is  to  get  their  numbers  be- 
tween ten  ticks  of  the  clock,  and  either  pass 
'em  through  or  start  'em  on  their  way  out 
again.  Gen 'rally  I  can  do  it  too,  without  feel- 
in'  their  bumps  or  readin'  their  palms;  but 
now  and  then  I  have  one  slipped  over  on  me. 

For  instance,  there  was  Rodney.  All  I  can 
say  is  that  four-thirty  of  a  sizzlin'  afternoon 
wa'n't  any  time  to  slide  in  a  guessin'  contest 
like  him.  I  was  standin'  at  ease,  as  you  might 
say;  that  is,  I  had  my  heels  up  on  the  desk  and 
my  head  leaned  back  against  the  spring  water 
cooler,  with  one  eye  on  the  clock  and  the  other 
watchin'  one  of  the  lady  typists  sneak  out  a 
powder  puff  and  renew  the  scenic  effect  on  the 
sides  of  her  nose. 

Then  all  of  a  sudden  I  glances  over  my 
shoulder,  to  find  this  tall  party  in  the  white 
flannels  and  sun  helmet  strayin'  in  sort  of  hesi- 
tatin'  and  bashful.  No  wonder  I  gawped;  for 
under  the  helmet  was  a  set  of  cinnamon  tinted 
whiskers  that  was  the  real  thing.  No  Vandyke, 

H 


UNDER  WAY  WITH  UNCLE  ROD   59 

mind  you :  just  bristly  face  underbrush  chopped 
square  off  two  or  three  inches  from  the  chin 
and  thick  on  the  sides,  like  the  crop  had  been 
started  early  durin'  a  wet  spring.  Somehow, 
the  combination  struck  me  as  odd,  and  I  expect 
I  must  have  unreefed  a  grin.  That  seems  to 
brace  his  nerve  a  bit;  for  as  he  tiptoes  up  to 
the  rail  a  smile  comes  to  view  in  the  midst  of 
the  alfalfa. 

"  Greetings!  "  says  I.  "  What  news  from 
Timbuktu?  " 

"  Ah — er — I  beg  pardon?  "  says  he. 

"  Barber  shop  in  the  arcade,  main  floor," 
says  I.  "Or  was  you  scoutin'  out  a  horse 
clipper?  ' 

"  Why,"  says  he,  "I'm  looking  for — er — 
This  is  the  Corrugated  Trust,  isn't  it?  " 

"Good  guess!"  says  I.     "Then  what?' 

"  Would  it  be  possible  for  me  to  see  Mr. 
Robert  Ellins?  "  says  he. 

Now  as  a  rule  an  openin'  like  that  would  have 
earned  him  the  quick  shunt ;  but  somehow  I  had 
a  hunch  that  it  might  be  just  as  well  to  kid 
him  along. 

"  Depends,"  says  I.    "  What's  the  name?  " 

"  Blake,"  says  he,  and  at  that  I  let  my  heels 
elide  off  on  the  floor. 

"  Not  T.  Rodney?  "  says  I. 

"  Quite  so,"  says  he,  smilin'  again. 

"  Gee!  "  says  I,  jumpin'  up  and  swingin1 


SO  TRYING  OUT  TORCHY 

the  gate  wide.  "  Why  didn't  you  say  so  first 
off?  Come  right  in,  Mr.  Blake.  You  see,  Mr. 
Robert's  been  expectin'  you;  but  he's  just 
stepped  out.  Maybe  I  can  catch  him  on  the 
'phone.  Walk  right  in." 

"  I — I  think  I'd  rather  wait  here,"  says  hey 
backin'  off  and  glancin'  nervous  at  our  battery 
of  lady  typists  that  was  mostly  starin'  goggle 
eyed  at  him. 

Skirt  shy?  Why,  he  had  about  the  worst 
case  I  ever  saw!  So  I  rustles  out  a  chair, 
plants  him  where  he'll  be  well  screened  from 
the  Kitty-Mauds,  and  starts  callin'  up  the 
clubs.  The  New  York  Yacht  was  my  second 
guess,  and  it  was  a  winner. 

"  Eh!  "  says  Mr.  Robert.  "  Rodney  Blake? 
Good!  Send  him  right  up,  Torchy." 

"  Trust  me,"  says  I. 

But  Rodney  wa'n't  so  easy  to  start  in  any 
given  direction.  "  Yacht  club?  "  says  he. 
"  I'm  afraid  I  don't  know  where  it  is.  You 
see,  I've  been  away  from  New  York  so  long, 
and  the  city  has  changed  so^niuch,  that  I  feel 
almost  like  a  stranger.  If  there  was  anyone 
you  could  send,  now?  " 

"  Why,"  says  I,  takin'  another  look  at  the 
whiskers  and  helmet,  "  I  expect  I  might  do  it 
myself.  Come  on." 

But  I  must  say  I  felt  some  easier  after  he's 
suggested  a  taxi  and  we're  well  loaded  into 


UNDER  WAY  WITH  UNCLE  ROD   61 

one.    There  was  less  chance  of  our  headin'  a 
rubberneck  procession. 

"  Been  out  in  the  bush  somewhere,  ain't  you, 
Mr.  Blake?  "  says  I. 

"  China,"  says  he.  Then  I  remembered 
hearin'  Mr.  Robert  say  how  he'd  been  layin', 
out  new  railroad  lines  for  the  Chink  Gover'- 
ment  over  there;  which  had  something  to  do,  I 
suspect,  with  his  arrival  bein'  so  much  of  an 
event  at  the  Corrugated. 

He  might  be  a  shark  at  railroadin';  but  he 
sure  was  some  shy  of  information  about  New 
York.  Didn't  know  the  Fifth  Avenue  Hotel 
had  gone,  asked  if  the  Metropolitan  Buildin' 
was  the  new  city  hall,  and  owned  up  he  hadn't 
dared  tackle  the  Subway  yet. 
"  "  What  you  need,  then,"  says  I,  "  ia  a 
guide." 

"  Just  what  I  was  thinking  myself,"  says  he. 
"  I  wonder  if — well,  wait  until  I  see  Bob  El- 
lins." 

And  not  until  he's  had  a  half -hour  session 
with  Mr.  Robert,  leavin'  me  waitin'  by  request 
in  the  taxi  with  the  clock  go  in',  did  I  get  wise 
to  what  he  meant.  They  comes  out  arm  in 
arm,  and  Mr.  Robert  tips  me  the  cheery 
wink. 

"  Torchy,"  says  he,  "  Mr.  Blake  seems  to 
think  no  one  could  be  of  more  help  to  him  in 
renewing  his  acquaintance  with  New  York  than 


62  TRYING  OUT  TORCHY 

yourself.    He  would  like  your  company  for  a 
day  or  so.    What  do  you  say?  " 

"  With  or  without!  "  says  I. 

"  Eh?  "  says  Mr.  Robert. 

"  The  explorer's  lid,"  says  I. 

"  Oh,  I  will  get  a  straw  hat  at  once,"  says 
Rodney. 

"  Then  it's  a  go,"  says  I.    "  Better  hop  in, 
too ;  for  you  got  two-thirty  rung  up  on  you  al 
ready." 

Rodney,  though,  didn't  seem  to  mind  ex- 
pense ;  for  he  has  a  few  more  questions  to  ask 
Mr.  Robert,  mostly  about  people  that's  been 
laid  away  or  forgotten.  Just  as  he's  climbin' 
in  he  remarks  sort  of  casual,  '  *  Oh,  by  the  way, 
Bob;  that — er — Mrs.  Heatherwood?  Do  you 
ever  hear  anything  of — " 

"Do  I!  "  says  Mr.  Robert.  "  Why,  she's 
our  leading  lady  dramatist!  Only  she's  Mrs. 
Heatherwcod-Knight  now,  you  know." 

4 '  Oh !  "  says  Rodney,  kind  of  choky.  '  *  Mar- 
ried again,  of  course." 

"  Young  grand  opera  tenor,  I  believe,"  says 
Mr.  Robert.  "  That  affair  lasted  about  a 
month.  Then  she  got  a  decree.  Since  then 
she's  devoted  herself  to  remaining  single,  keep- 
ing herself  in  the  public  eye,  and  growing  more 
stunning  every  year.  Used  to  know  the  Widow 
Beautiful,  didn't  you?  You  must  look  her 
up." 


UNDER  WAY  WITH  UNCLE  EOD   63 

"  No,  no!"  almost  gasps  Eodney.  "I — I 
don't  wish  to  meet  her,  you  know.  And — and 
you  mustn't  arrange  anything  of  the  kind. 
Really,  you  mustn't,  Bob!  " 

"  Oh,  all  right,"  says  Mr.  Robert,  "I'll  be- 
have. And  anything  you  want  to  know  or  see, 
ask  Torchy.  So  long,  old  chap." 

Well,  say,  after  I'd  steered  him  around  to  a 
hatstore  and  got  him  to  shelve  the  helmet  for 
a  split  sennit,  it  wa'n't  so  bad  towin'  Rodney 
around.  I  discovers  he  ain't  half  such  a  prune 
as  he  looks.  Along  about  seven  o'clock  he  men- 
tions dinner,  and  as  it's  a  case  of  lookin'  for 
big  eats  I  steers  him  into  one  of  the  new  lob- 
ster palaces.  At  first  he  was  inclined  to  look 
skittish  when  a  bunch  of  flossy  fluffs  plants 
themselves  at  the  next  table ;  but  when  he  finds 
nobody  wants  to  steal  him  he  calms  down  and 
goes  on  orderin'  expensive  food  reckless. 

"  Odd,  isn't  it,"  he  remarks,  when  we'd  got 
as  far  as  peach  Melba  and  ice  cream,  "  how 
completely  one  can  drop  out  of  things?  A 
dozen  years  ago  in  a  place  like  this  I  should 
have  seen  a  lot  of  familiar  faces;  while  to- 
night I  supp6se  there  isn't  a  soul  here  whom 
I've  ever  known." 

"  There's  a  certain  party  at  the  third  table 
left,"  says  I,  "  that  means  to  know  you  next 
time,  I  guess,  by  the  way  she's  been  stretchin* 
her  neck." 


64  TRYING  OUT  TOBCHY 

"  What's  that?"  says  he,  almost  droppin' 
his  spoon.  "  Where?  " 

"  You  can  get  her  in  the  wall  mirror  best," 
says  I.  "  See,  the  willowy  stunner  with  the 
,  big  pink  plume  on  the  white  hat  and  the  pearl 
ropes  hangin'  from  her  neck?  She's  gettin'  up 
now  and — •  S-s-s-sh!  You  win!  She's  makin' 
for  you.  Ah,  there's  no  duckin'  now,  Mr.  Blake 
— here  she  comes!  " 

I  don't  know  whether  he  thought  of  hidin' 
under  the  table  or  takin'  a  dive  into  the  gold- 
fish pool,  but  just  then  he  turns  and  gets  a 
glimpse  of  her  smile,  and  his  panicky  look 
changes  to  about  the  mushiest  expression  I  ever 
saw  any  whiskered  party  work  up. 

"Well,  well!  Eodney!  "  says  she,  holdin* 
out  both  hands.  "So  it  is  really  you,  after 
all?  " 

"  Why,  howdy  do,  Mrs.  Heatherwood — er — 
ah — "  stammers  Eodney. 

"  Why  not  Mabel!  "  says  the  lady,  tappin' 
him  coy  with  her  lorgnette.  "  And  for  good- 
ness' sake  don't  stare  so!  Do  ask  me  to  sit 
down  and  have  my  coffee  with  you  and  your 
young  friend.  Thank  you.  Just  as  much  of  a 
stick  as  ever,  aren't  you,  Rodney?  Now,  I 
should  have  thought  that  all  those  years  abroad 
would  have  limbered  you  up  some;  but  you're 
just  the  same." 


UNDEE  WAY  WITH  UNCLE  BOD   65 

"  These  are  new,"  says  Rodney,  strokin'  his 
whiskers  and  laughin'  nervous. 

"  Then  they  aren't  tied  on  with  a  string?  " 
says  she.  "  I've  been  dying  to  ask.  And  why 
do  you  wear  them?  You  lost  a  wager,  per- 
haps, or  made  a  vow?  " 

"  Bronchial  trouble,"  says  Rodney.  "  The 
Manchurian  winters  were  rather  trying." 

"  But  you're  not  there  now,  and  it  isn't 
winter,"  suggests  the  lady.  "  Why  stick  to 
them?  " 

"  Why  not?  "  says  he.  "  What's  the  differ^ 
ence?  " 

"  Old  oddity!  "  says  she.  "  You  were  al- 
ways doing  the  strangest  things.  Your  run- 
ning off  to  China  just  before  my  second 
marriage — now,  whatever  sent  you  off  like 
that?  " 

"  You,  Mabel,"  says  Rodney.  He  has  his 
elbows  on  the  table,  his  chin  in  his  hands,  and 
he's  gazin'  at  her  like  she  was  a  jar  of  straw- 
b'ry  jam  on  the  top  shelf. 

Comin'  out  slow  and  solemn,  the  way  it  did, 
that  answer  seems  to  fuss  her  up  some.  She 
almost  shows  a  color  through  the  drugstore 
complexion. 

"  You  remarkable  fellow!  r  says  she. 
"  Really?  What  a  theatrical  thing  to  do! 
Why,  I  didn't  dream  so  much  genuine,  old- 
fashioned  sentimentality  still  existed.  I 


66  TRYING  OUT  TORCHY 

shouldn't  dare  use  anything  like  that  in  one  of 
my  plays,  you  know." 

"  I  suppose  I  am  old  fashioned,"  says  Rod- 
ney; "  but  I've  been  away.  I  haven't  kept 
track.  And — er — I'm  told,  Mabel,  that  there 
isn't  a  Number  Three — yet." 

"  Nor  ever  will  be,"  says  she.  "  Victor 
Knight  cured  me.  To  be  sure,  I  don't  say  that 
all  men  are  so  weak  and  vain, — there  wouldn't 
be  enough  vanity  to  go  around  if  you  were  all 
opera  singers, — but  I  have  learned  to  despise 
the  lot  of  you.  I  am  teaching  my  girls  to  do 
the  same." 

"I  was  almost  forgetting  the  children,"  says 
Rodney. 

"  When  I  encouraged  them  to  call  you  Unky 
Rod!  Ungrateful  person!  "  says  Mabel. 

11  I  wish  I  could  see  them,"  says  Rodney; 
"  although  I  suppose  by  this  time  they  are — " 

"  Don't  suppose  anything  of  the  sort," 
breaks  in  Mrs.  Heatherwood-Knight.  "  They- 
're still  little  girls,  dear  little  babies.  Would 
you  truly  care  to  see  them,  though?  ' 

"  Very  much  indeed,"  says  Rodney. 

"  Then  you  shall,"  says  she,  clappin'  her 
hands.  "  In  fact,  I  believe  you're  Heaven 
sent.  Here  I've  been  worrying  myself  mad  to 
know  whom  I  could  send  up  to  be  with  them 
for  the  next  few  days,  while  I  fight  it  out  with 
the  stage  manager  about  the  setting  of  that 


UNDER  WAY  WITH  UNCLE  ROD   67 

second  act.  You  see,  my  dear  old  Rod,  they're 
up  at  my  Narragansett  Bay  cottage,  having  a 
ripping  time,  and  I  do  loathe  dragging  them 
back  to  town  with  me  in  this  weather.  You'll 
go  up,  eh,  and  be  Unky  Rod  to  them  again, 
until  I  can  get  away?  Then  we'll  have  a  nice 
visit,  and  be  sentimental  for  a  whole  week  end. 
What  do  you  say?  " 

And  Rodney,  he  takes  the  hand  she  reaches 
across  and  lugs  it  up  to  his  whiskers  like  he 
was  bein'  presented  at  court.  "  I  am  yours  to 
command,  always,"  says  he. 

"  Why,  Rodney!  "  says  she,  glancin'  around 
foolish  at  a  gawpin'  waiter.  "  Oh,  you're  al- 
most too  good  to  be  true!  But  I'm  going  to 
send  you  off  to  my  darling  babies  this  very 
night.  You're  just  the  one." 

Course,  that  works  me  out  of  my  cinch  job; 
but  the  twenty  Rodney  slips  me  as  I  backs  out 
graceful  more'n  made  up  for  any  fun  I  might 
have  missed,  and  I  wishes  him  luck. 

So  it  was  me  showin'  up  reg'lar  at  the  office 
next  mornin',  and  when  I  explains  the  case  to 
Mr.  Robert  he  chuckles,  "  So  China  didn't  cure 
him  of  that,  eh?  Poor  Rod!  " 

"  Huh!  "  says  I.  "He  seemed  to  be  enjoy- 
in'  the  agony." 

"  He  always  did,"  says  Mr.  Robert.  "  But 
he'll  be  blue  enough  by  the  time  he  turns  up 
here  again." 


<  i 

t  ( 


68  TRYING  OUT  TORCHY 

Prophesyin',  though,  ain't  Mr.  Robert's 
strong  suit.  What  happens  was  somethin' 
along  a  diff'rent  line;  for  two  days  later  he 
comes  out  to  me,  with  a  telegram. 

"  Torchy,"  says  he,  "  our  friend  Rodney 
seems  to  be  in  some  sort  of  trouble  up 
there." 

"  Kids  pullin'  his  whiskers  too  hard?  " 
says  I. 

"  He  doesn't  state,"  says  Mr.  Robert;  "  but 
he  calls  for  help.  And  what  do  you  suppose 
he  suggests?  " 

Wants  you  to  go  up?  "  says  I. 
No,  you,"  says  he.    "  '  Send  up  that  red 
headed  youth  if  you  can  possibly  spare  him,'  is 
what  he  says.    But  I  shall  leave  this  entirely 
to  you.    Care  to  go,  eh?  " 

11  The  Brodie  fam'ly's  a  big  one,"  says  I. 
"  I'll  take  a  chance." 

Talk  about  bridge  jumpin',  though!  Say,  I 
didn't  stop  to  think  what  a  blindfold  proposi- 
tion this  was  until  I  was  on  the  train.  I  lands 
up  there  in  the  quahaug-stew  belt  about  four- 
thirty  P.M.,  and  finds  Rodney  waitin'  for  me 
at  the  station  with  a  carriage. 

"  Thanks  awfully  for  coming,"  says  he.  "  It 
was  something  I  couldn't  ask  Bob  to  do,  and 
I  could  think  of  no  one  else." 

"  Kid's  ain't  got  smallpox,  have  they?  " 
says  I. 


UNDER  WAY  WITH  UNCLE  EOD   69 

"No  such  luck!"  says  Rodney,  sort  of 
gloomy. 

I  looks  him  over  surprised,  and  notices  the 
lovely  cerise  color  on  his  brow  and  nose  and 
the  sun  blisters  on  his  wrists. 

"  Looks  like  you'd  been  sunnin'  yourself 
some,"  says  I.  "  Been  out  playin'  games  with 
the  darlin's,  eh?  " 

"  Playing  fool  would  be  nearer  the  mark,''' 
growls  Rodney.  "  The  darlings,  as  you  call 
them,  happen  to  be  sixteen  and  eighteen,  and — • 
and — well,  I've  been  trying  to  chaperon  them, 
and  it's  worn  me  out." 

"  Eh?  "  says  I,  snickerin'.  "  You've  been 
chaperonin'!  " 

"  I  know!  "  he  groans.  "  No  one  sees  the 
absurdity  of  my  position  more  clearly.  But  I 
thought — well,  they  were  only  little  tots  when 
I  knew  them.  And  now —  But  I  can't  describe 
them.  It's  a  type  new  to  me,  absolutely 
new. ' ' 

"  Lively  pair,  are  they?  "  says  I. 

Rodney  throws  up  his  hands.  "  I  don't 
know,"  says  he.  "I  thought  you  might.  You 
belong  to  the  same  generation.  I  don't.  But 
tell  me,  is  it  quite  proper  for  girls  nowadays 
to  run  about  all  day  and  half  the  night  with 
strange  young  men, — sailing,  bathing,  dancing, 
hammocking?  Is  it  right?  " 

"  Search  me,"  says  I.    "  Where  and  when 


70  TRYING  OUT  TORCHY 

has  something  to  do  with  it,  I  guess.  Been  act- 
in'  up  real  kittenish,  have  they?  " 

11  It  struck  me  as  scandalous,  nothing  less," 
says  Rodney.  "  Of  course,  I  couldn't  forbid 
these  youths  coming  around;  but  I  thought  it 
my  duty  to  be  present  when  the  girls  had  com- 
pany. I've  never  been  a  chaperon  before;  but 
I'm  sure  that's  what  they  used  to  do.  So  I 
went  with  them.  And  it's  been  a  siege, — all 
one  day  on  a  yacht  sailed  by  a  pair  of  rattle 
headed  youngsters  who  tried  to  see  how  near 
capsizing  they  could  come.  I  was  seasick,  and 
scared,  and  blistered  in  the  sun ;  but  that  night 
they  kept  me  up  until  two  A.M.  at  a  dance.  Next 
day  it  was  motorboating, — more  sun,  more 
daredevil  risks,  then  another  dance.  I'm  used 
up,  finished.  They  had  me  out  at  the  tennis 
courts  all  day,  and  this  evening,  I  believe,  two 
of  their  young  admirers  are  to  call  on  Dot  and 
Dimple.  I  can't  go  to  bed  and  leave  them. 
Someone  must  stay  up  around  for  the  sake  of 
propriety;  so  I — I — well,  can't  you  help  me 
out?  " 

"  Me?  "  says  I.  "  Say,  I'd  make  a  hot 
chaperon,  wouldn't  I?  " 

"  But  I  should  give  them  to  understand  that 
I  had  delegated  my  authority  to  you.  And 
really  I'm  done  up,"  says  Rodney,  pleadin'. 
"  Only  take  my  place  for  this  evening,  while 
I  get  a  little  rest." 


UNDER  WAY  WITH  UNCLE  ROD   71 

"  Oh,  well,"  says  I,  "  I  expect  I  could  kind 
of  loaf  around,  if  that's  all." 

"  Thank  you,  thank  you!  "  says  he.  "  And 
if  they  try  chaffing,  or  are  rude  to  you,  as  I 
regret  to  say  they  have  been  to  me  at  times, 
'  why,  simply — " 

"  Huh!  "  says  I.  "  The  fresh  things !  Say, 
Mr.  Blake,  don't  you  worry  about  me.  If  they 
hurt  my  feelin's  too  bad  I'll  just  cry  into  my 
hat  and  not  let  on.  This  is  the  ranch,  is  it?  ' 

We'd  pulled  up  in  front  of  a  cunnin'  little 
cottage  perched  up  on  some  rocks  overlookin' 
the  water.  It  had  good,  generous  verandas, 
with  plenty  of  hammocks  and  swings  and  easy 
chairs;  but  nobody's  in  sight. 

"  Dot  and  Dimple  must  be  taking  a  nap," 
sighs  Rodney,  "  preparing  for  the  evening 
campaign.  I  wish  I  could!  " 

They  appears  at  dinner,  though,  and  while 
they  don't  say  much  they  looks  me  over  thor- 
ough and  curious.  Course,  that's  natural 
enough,  specially  as  Uncle  Rodney  was  explain- 
in'  delicate  how,  in  a  way,  I  was  goin*  to  sub 
for  him  to-night.  Nice  and  innocent  enough 
lookin'  girls  they  was  too,  and  costumed  in  the 
regulation  summer  girl  uniforms, — white  mid- 
die  blouses,  hobble  skirts,  canvas  pumps,  and 
broad  pink  willie  ribbons  over  their  ears.  But 
I  didn't  enjoy  the  silent,  impish  way  they  eyed 
me,  nor  the  looks  they  swapped. 


72  TRYING  OUT  TORCHY 

Yes,  I'll  admit  I  was  some  nervous  before 
dinner  was  over,  and  when  Rodney  pikes  right 
off  to  hit  the  feathers,  leavin'  me  holdin'  the 
lid  down  all  alone,  I  begun  to  get  chilly  below 
the  ankles.  Of  all  the  fool  propositions  I  ever 
had  unloaded  on  me,  this  was  a  little  the  rum- 
miest.  But  I'd  passed  my  word,  and  there  was 
nothin'  left  to  do  but  stick  around. 

I  was  inside  when  the  comp'ny  arrived;  but 
I  got  a  glimpse  of  the  young  chaps  under  the 
porch  light,  and  I  sized  'em  up  right  off  for 
the  regulation  prep  school  cutups;  the  kind 
that  wears  white  silk  socks  and  subsists  chiefly 
on  a  diet  of  cork  tipped  cigarettes. 

For  half  an  hour  or  so  I  lays  low,  until  I 
heard  the  chains  of  the  porch  swings  creaking 
and  then  I  braces  myself  to  do  picket  duty. 
The  moon  was  well  up  by  this  time,  and,  though 
it  was  some  dusky  on  the  veranda,  I  makes 
out  the  whole  bunch  of  'em  crowded  into  one 
porch  swing.  So  I  starts  that  way  to  do  the 
casual  march  past. 

With  that  the  chatterin'  and  whisperin'  stops 
sudden,  and  not  a  remark  is  made  until  I'm 
within  a  dozen  feet  of  them.  Then  they  cuts 
loose  with,  "  Tar-r-rum!  Tar-r-rum!  Tar-r- 
rum — turn — tump !  All  hail  the  chap-er-on !  ' ; 

It's  fairly  good  teamwork,  and  the  effect  on 
me  was  some  jarrin'.  I  stops  and  grins  sort 
of  foolish. 


UNDER  WAY  WITH  UNCLE  BOD   73 

"  Oh,  isn't  he  cute,  Dot!  "  observes  Dimple 
to  Sister. 

"  Yes,  and  such  cheerful  hair!  "  says  Dot. 

1 '  Hee-hee !  Haw-haw !  ' '  comes  from  the 
young  chaps. 

"  Only  fahncy!  "  says  Dot.  "  We're  being 
chaperoned!  " 

More  roars  of  merriment  from  the  prep 
school  delegates.  And  me?  Well,  I  just  stood 
and  took  it,  that's  all.  Maybe  my  ears  was 
burnin'  some;  but  I  leans  back  careless  against 
the  rail  and  lets  'em  enjoy  themselves. 

"  And  I  suppose  we  mustn't  do  anything 
Muhmah  wouldn't  approve  of?  '  remarks 
Dimple. 

"  Tee-hee!  "  explodes  Dot,  nudgin'  with  each 
elbow.  Then  I  hears  her  whisper.  '  *  Come  on, 
Boys.  One,  two,  three — now!  "  and  at  the  sig- 
nal they  all  go  to  the  fond  clinch, — boys'  arms 
around  the  girls'  waists,  girls  with  theirs 
around  the  boys'  necks,  a  reg'lar  double  Borneo 
and  Juliet  act,  while  the  next  number  on  the 
program  is  to  start  singin'  the  chorus  of  one  of 
them  gummy  ragtime  songs: 

Cuddle  up  beside  me,  Deary, 

Hold  my  hand  awhile; 
For  I  could  learn  to  love  you, 

When  you  smile,  smile,  smile! 

But  I'd  held  in  about  as  long  as  I  could. 
"  Fine!  "  says  I.  "  Say,  no  wonder  you  made 


74  TRYING  OUT  TORCHY 

Uncle  Rodney  seasick!  But  I  guess  he  hadn't 
come  home  from  Coney  on  the  last  boat  as 
many  times  as  I  have.  Got  anything  more  up 
your  sleeves?  If  you  have,  let  it  come." 

"  Go  away,  Fellow,'*  pipes  up  one  of  the 
boys.  "  Don't  you  see  we're  busy?  " 

* '  Ah,  a  few  low-gear  remarks  from  Percy !  ' ; 
says  I.  "  Are  those  your  callin'  manners, 
Son?  " 

"  Pooh!  "  says  Dot.    "  Don't  mind  him." 

"  But  I  want  a  lock  of  his  hair  for  a  sou- 
venir," says  Dimple. 

11  I'll  get  you  one  if  he  doesn't  clear  out 
soon,"  says  Percy. 

"  Honest?  "  says  I.  "  Well,  you  wait  right 
there  a  minute  and  maybe  I'll  hand  it  to  you. 
Just  a  minute,  now!  " 

With  that  I  hops  over  the  rail,  grabs  a  gar- 
den hose  I'd  seen  coiled  up  neat  and  handy, 
turns  the  wheel,  and  scrambles  back  just  as 
the  water  comes  on  full  force.  Does  Percy  get 
it?  Slam  in  the  face.  The  girls  scream  and 
jump,  and  Master  Percy  opens  his  mouth  to 
howl. 

11  Ug-ug-guggle-guggle !  ':  observes  Percy, 
dancin'  around  wild  and  splutterin'. 

Then  Harold  tries  a  rush  in,  and  he  gets  it 
too. 

"  You  will  buck  up  against  a  perfectly  good 
chaperon,  will  you?  "  says  I.  "  Such  nice  lads, 


UNDER  WAY  WITH  UNCLE  BOD   75 

too!  Eh?  Another  souse  for  you,  Percy? 
Still  got  that  cuddly  feelin',  have  you?  Well, 
this  ought  to  cure  it.  Ain't  you  ashamed, 
shockin'  the  neighbors  that  way?  Got  enough? 
Well,  see  you  don't  drip  on  the  veranda  as  you 
leave,  and  be  sure  to  tell  Mother  it  rained  hard 
where  you  were  this  evenin'.  Don't  forget!  '; 
Peeved?  Oh,  sure!  And  I  expect  if  there 
hadn't  been  ladies  present  they  might  have 
mussed  me  up  some;  but  with  Dot  and  Dimple 
standin'  one  side  and  near  doubled  up  with 
glee,  and  me  handlin'  the  hose  so  accurate,  the 
poor  boys  didn't  have  any  show.  They  just 
beat  it,  that's  all,  and  I'll  bet  they  left  damp 
streaks  for  a  mile. 

I'd  done  all  the  chaperonin',  though,  that  I 
cared  to  deliver  at  one  time,  and  I  woke  up 
Rodney  and  told  him  so  flat.  We  talked  it 
over  for  an  hour,  and  ended  by  agreein'  that 
anybody  who  started  out  to  train  Dot  and  Dim- 
ple had  got  to  have  more  authority  than  either 
of  us  could  muster. 

11  And,  by  Jove!  "  says  Rodney  emphatic, 
"  I  wish  I  had  it!  " 

"  Well,  there's  only  one  way  I  know  of  to 
get  it,"  says  I. 

Eh?  "  says  Rodney. 

By  stepfatherin'  'em,"  says  I. 

Oh,  really,  really!  "  he  protests. 

But  you'd  have  to  saw  off  them  allspice 


" 


76  TRYING  OUT  TOECHY 

tinted  whiskers  before  you  had  the  ghost  of 
a  show,"  says  I.  "It  might  be  worth  tryin', 
though. ' ' 

"  By  George!  "  says  Eodney,  after  thinkin' 
that  over  for  awhile.    r<  I  wonder — " 
'      Then  we  turned  in,  and  as  there  was  an 
early   mornin'   message   from   Mrs.   Heather-  * 
wood  sayin'  she'd  arrive  on  the  noon  train,  I 
has   an  eight   o'clock  breakfast   and   Eodney 
drives  me  in  to  catch  the  nine-fifteen  back  to 
town. 

And,  say, — you  wouldn't  of  thought  it  of 
him,  would  you? — but  less'n  a  week  later,  as 
Mr.  Eobert  swings  in  through  the  gate  one 
mornin',  he  stops  and  grins  sociable. 

"  Well,  I  hear  your  friend  Blake  has  gone 
and  done  it,"  says  he.  "  Married  yesterday." 

"  Honest?  "  says  I.  "  Then  that  was  him 
I  saw  sneakin'  into  the  barber's  as  the  train 
pulled  out.  But,  say,  I  know  a  pair  of  sweet 
young  things  that's  billed  to  be  broken  of  the 
Juliet  clinch  habit  before  the  season's  over. 
Eodney 's  a  little  slow  on  the  getaway;  but  he 
means  business  when  he  once  gets  started,  be- 
lieve mel  " 


CHAPTER  V 

SHOWING  TEEDY  THE  DITCH 

JUST  to  watch  the  diff'rent  kinds  of  folks 
knockin'  around  sort  of  blind  and  casual,  the 
good  ones  gettin'  let  in  wrong,  and  the  crooked 
ones  pullin'  down  the  extra  dividends,  and  both 
sides  actin'  like  they  was  grouched  at  bein' 
here  at  all — well,  you'd  most  think  life  was 
only  a  punk  scheme  run  without  sense  or  sys- 
tem. 

And  yet,  somehow  or  other,  we  all  seem  to 
fit  in;  even  me  and  Doc  White  and  J.  Chubb 
Teedy. 

Doc  he  was  about  the  biggest  surprise  pack- 
age I've  had  sprung  on  me  since  the  last  full 
moon.  Course,  I'd  seen  him  hangin'  around 
the  office  for  near  a  week;  for  he  put  in  two 
whole  days  waitin'  for  Mr.  Eobert  until  he 
fin'lly  lands  him. 

He's  a  tall,  wiry  gent,  kind  of  youngish  and 
fresh  cheeked,  with  mild  gray  eyes,  and  mild 
ways,  and  a  quiet,  bashful  smile,  and  he's  about 
the  most  patient  waiter  I'd  ever  seen  holdin' 
down  one  of  our  reception  room  chairs. 

Just  what  his  line  was  I  had  to  pass  up; 


78  TRYING  OUT  TORCHY 

but  I  locates  his  section  as  soon  as  he  makes 
that  remark  about  hangin'  his  rain  coat  on  the 
rail,  for  he  pronounces  coat  like  it  didn't  have 
an  A  in  it — something  like  cut,  short  and 
snappy — which  tags  him  as  hailin'  from  up 
in  the  b'gosh  belt. 

"  Hayin'  all  done?  "  says  I,  just  to  make 
him  feel  at  home. 

"  Mine  was,"  says  he,  "  sometime  ago.  I 
notice  you  still  have  quite  a  crop  to  cut." 

"  Good  work!  "  says  I,  givin'  back  the  grin 
and  pattin'  down  the  head  thatch  he's  eyin' 
humorous.  "  They  do  send  out  an  occasional 
live  wire  from  Skowhegan,  don't  they?  ' 

"  Bangor,  too,"  says  he. 

"  My,  my!  "  says  I.  "  It's  a  shame  more 
of  them  verdant  villages  don't  show  on  the 
map,  they've  got  such  cute  names.  Bangor!  I 
must  remember  that  one." 

"  Hope  you'll  not  strain  anything  in  the  ef- 
fort," says  he,  his  gray  eyes  twinklin'. 

Say,  me  and  him  swapped  quite  some  airy 
persiflage  durin'  odd  times,  him  on  one  side  of 
the  brass  gate  and  me  on  the  other,  and  we  got 
more  or  less  chummy. 

"  Who  is  that  person?  "  inquires  Mr.  Piddie 
suspicious. 

"  Delegate  from  the  State  of  Maine,"  says 
I,  "  come  on  special  to  get  your  job,  Piddie." 

Honest,  I  was  dead  sure  he  was  trailin'  some- 


SHOWING  TEEDY  THE  DITCH      79 

thing  of  the  kind,  but  when  Mr.  Eobert  comes 
out  with  him  after  the  interview  and  shakes 
him  by  the  mitt  so  cordial  as  he  leaves,  I  saw 
I  had  the  wrong  number. 

11  Hired  a  new  department  head,  or  what?  " 
says  I,  noddin'  towards  the  elevator. 

And,  bein'  in  a  chatty  mood,  Mr.  Eobert 
gives  me  a  few  details. 

Seems  my  pink  cheeked  friend  was  Professor 
Taylor  White,  A.M.,  P.M.,  and  a  lot  more,  and 
that  the  proper  hail  to  give  him  was  Doc. 
He'd  been  in  the  same  class  with  Mr.  Robert  at 
college,  only  he  hadn't  run  with  quite  the  same 
set;  for,  while  Mr.  Robert  had  been  trainin'  for 
the  crew,  and  doin'  the  fraternity  act,  and 
staggerin'  Old  Hickory  with  his  expense  ac- 
counts, Whity  had  been  managin'  an  eatin' 
club,  and  collectin'  for  a  steam  laundry,  and 
coppin'  out  scholarships  to  pay  his  term  bills 
with.  So  they  hadn't  mixed  much,  and  it's  no 
wonder  Mr.  Robert  didn't  recognize  the  name 
first  off. 

"  But  he's  a  remarkable  chap,"  says  Mr. 
Robert. 

"  Back  in  Bangor?  "  says  I. 

No,  it  wa'n't  in  the  canned  corn  and  sardine 
district  that  Professor  White  had  cut  his  in- 
itials deepest.  He'd  gone  back  to  the  pines  for 
awhile  as  a  rock  and  mineral  expert  in  one  of 
them  rutabaga  colleges,  and  then  all  of  a  sud- 


80  TRYING  OUT  TOECHY 

den  he'd  chucked  his  job  and  beat  it  over  to 
Africa. 

He'd  been  readin'  minin'  reports,  and  he'd 
run  across  an  item  about  how  they'd  lost  track 
of  the  Barnato  streak.  Near  as  I  could  make 
out,  it  was  a  case  of  some  big  gold  mine  that 
had  fizzled  out  unexpected,  and  the  various  min- 
in'  sharks  that  had  been  called  in  couldn't 
agree  on  whether  the  streak  had  just  petered 
out,  or  had  dipped  to  the  right  or  left  or 
straight  down. 

Anyway,  Whity  gets  interested,  studies  the 
reports  and  diagrams  that  was  printed,  and 
works  out  a  theory  of  his  own  as  to  what  had 
become  of  the  lost  vein.  Never 'd  seen  a  gold 
mine  in  his  life,  mind  you ;  but  he  takes  a  chance 
on  hikin'  off  there  all  on  his  own  hook.  And 
when  he  gets  on  the  ground,  and  finds  this 
ledge  of  rock  stickin'  straight  up  in  the  air 
half  a  mile  away,  and  compares  it  with  the 
stuff  from  the  original  streak,  he  announces 
that  he's  solved  the  mystery. 

He's  right  there  with  the  action  too,  and 
while  it  was  some  hard  to  convince  a  lot  of 
English  experts  that  a  pay  streak  could  run  up 
as  well  as  down,  he  hammered  it  into  a  few  of 
'em  so  hard  that  they  put  up  the  coin,  bought 
the  mine,  and  set  up  some  drills  on  the  ledge 
for  test  borings.  Then  come  the  guyin'  from 
the  old  minin'  engineers,  and  the  discovery 


SHOWING  TEEDY  THE  DITCH      81 

that  it  was  goin'  to  cost  a  lot  more  than  he'd 
figured,  and  his  bunch  of  backers  begun  gettin' 
cold  feet. 

At  that  stage  Whity  decides  that  the  only 
way  to  keep  things  goin'  was  to  hustle  back 
to  New  York  and  put  the  scheme  up  to  someone 
who  was  a  real  sport.  And  Mr.  Robert  was 
the  one  he  picked.  Take  a  flyer?  Why,  if  he 
was  fallin'  off  the  Singer  Buildin',  Mr.  Robert 
would  bet  you  on  how  many  times  he'd  bounce! 
He  takes  over  control  of  the  stock  by  cable,  puts 
five  or  ten  thou.  on  the  wire  to  keep  the  drills 
goin',  and  forgets  it  durin'  lunch  hour. 

Accordin'  to  his  own  schedule,  Professor 
Taylor  White  should  have  been  hikin'  back  to 
boss  the  job;  but  he  misses  first  one  steamer 
and  then  another,  until  it  comes  out  he's  gone 
and  got  mushy  on  a  young  lady  he'd  met  comin' 
over  from  Liverpool.  I  accumulated  them  de- 
tails by  careless  rubberin'  at  the  'phone  desk 
one  afternoon,  and,  by  the  way  he  describes 
her  to  Mr.  Robert,  Doc  must  have  had  his  nerve 
with  him;  for  she's  an  English  swell,  the  Hon. 
Miss  Greaves,  who's  come  over  with  Mrs. 
Brooks  Linn  for  a  peek  at  New  York  society. 

"  Mrs.  Brooks  Linn!  "  says  Mr.  Robert. 
"  Why,  then  the  young  lady  must  be  quite  all 
right.  Know  her?  Certainly.  Everyone 
knows  Mrs.  Brooks  Linn,  and  she's  an  eccen- 
tric old  tartar." 


82  TRYING  OUT  TOUCHY 

"  Gee!  "  thinks  I.  "  For  a  quiet  party  the 
Doc  sure  is  a  high  looker." 

It  ain't  more'n  a  couple  of  days  later, 
though,  that  Whity  has  another  long  chin  with 
Mr.  Robert,  and  comes  out  lookin'  sort  of  wor- 
ried. 

11  Bosh!  "  Mr.  Robert  was  sayin'.  "  Why, 
of  course  you  must  go.  You'll  not  be  expected 
to  perform,  and  you  can  watch  for  a  chance  to 
have  your  chat  with  Miss  Greaves.  You'll  need 
a  frock  coat,  you  know,  and  a  few  other  things. 
Oh,  certainly  you  can  do  it." 

And  knowin'  Whity 's  hist'ry,  I  could  piece 
out  the  rest.  He  was  up  against  one  of  Mrs. 
Brooks  Linn's  oolong  handouts,  and  the  pros- 
pects of  buttin'  into  society  with  only  a  Bangor 
trainin'  was  sendin'  shivers  down  his  spine. 
But,  unless  he  wanted  to  scratch  his  entry  in 
the  Fair  Lady  Handicap,  it  had  to  be  done. 
Also  it  was  now  or  never. 

With  his  finger  on  the  down  button,  Mr. 
Robert  calls  back  to  me,  "  Oh,  I  say,  Torchy! 
If  a  Cape  Town  cable  should  come  in  before 
closing  time  you'd  best  bring  it  up.  There's 
the  address — and  ask  for  me." 

It's  one  of  Mrs.  Brooks  Linn's  at  home 
cards  he  scales  through  the  door,  and  I  gets 
Piddie  fussed  to  the  fins  by  flashin'  it  casual 
and  remarkin'  how  kind  the  dear  old  soul  was 
to  remember  me.  I  wa'n't  lookin'  for  the  mes- 


SHOWING  TEEDY  THE  DITCH      83 

sage  to  show  up  at  all;  but  blamed  if  a  Postal 
kid  don 't  drift  in  about  half  past  four  and  chuck 
it  on  my  desk. 

"  Excuse  me  for  rattin'  before  the  whistle 
blows,  Piddie,"  says  I,  grabbin'  my  cap;  "  but 
I  expect  Mrs.  Brooks  Linn  is  wonderin'  why  I'm 
so  late." 

She's  one  of  the  old  Knickerbocker  set,  you 
know,  that  still  sticks  to  lower  Fifth-ave.  even 
if  the  cloak  and  suit  factories  are  gettin'  thick 
around  her,  and  the  old  colored  butler  that  holds 
me  up  at  the  top  of  the  brownstone  steps  looks 
as  though  he  might  belong  to  a  Double  Tom  and 
Hounds  Company. 

"  Yes,  I  know,  Uncle,"  says  I,  "  maybe  I 
don't  look  like  I  took  lemon  with  two  lumps 
reg'lar;  but  here's  the  card,  and  if  you'll 
show  me  in  where  I  can  have  a  word  with 
Mr.  Robert  Ellins  I'll  soon  be  on  my  way 
again. ' ' 

Lucky  it  wa'n't  a  crush,  or  I  might  have 
drifted  around  them  big  parlors  for  an  hour; 
but  there  wa'n't  more'n  a  couple  of  dozen  peo- 
ple on  hand,  and  Mr.  Eobert  and  his  friend 
Whity  looms  up  conspicuous  near  the  first  set 
)f  double  doors.  They  was  lookin'  sort  of  bored 
>o,  and  Mr.  Robert  heaves  a  sigh  of  relief  when 
le  sees  me  with  the  envelope. 

"  Hello.  Here's  a  good  excuse,"  says  he,  tak- 
ing the  message.  "  Let's  see  what  they  say. 


84  TRYING  OUT  TOECHY 

Eh?  Here,  old  man,  listen  to  this!  '  Good 
colors  at  ninety-foot  level.  Send  White  over  at 
once.'  Well,  old  man,  it  looks  as  though  you 
were  a  winner." 

"  Over  there,  yes,"  says  he,  as  cool  as  you 
please;  "  but  here — well,  I  suppose  I  might  as 
well  quit.  My  esteemed  rival  still  seems  to  be 
holding  the  floor." 

"  It's  his  specialty,"  says  Mr.  Robert.  "  If 
there  was  only  someone  who  could  take  a  little 
of  the  wind  out  of —  By  George !  "  he  breaks 
off  short,  and  then  whispers  eager,  "  What  do 
you  say  to  trying  Torchy  against  him?  ' 

11  But — but  how?  "  says  the  professor,  lookin' 
puzzled.  "  And  would  it  do?  " 

"  I'll  shoulder  all  consequences,"  says  Mr. 
Robert.  "  Here,  come  on  up  to  the  cloakroom. 
Young  Tubbman's  just  gone  up.  We'll  levy  on 
him.  This  way,  Torchy." 

And  before  I  can  get  my  breath  we're  up  in 
a  front  chamber  listenin'  to  Mr.  Robert  explain 
to  a  languid,  light  haired  young  gent  that  his 
frock  coat  and  white  tie  are  needed  bad  for  an 
emergency  case  that  he'll  be  told  all  about  later 
on — and  wouldn't  he  smoke  a  cigarette  or  two 
meanwhile?  Tubby  would,  with  pleasure,  and 
inside  of  two  minutes  we've  changed  rigs  and 
I'm  bein'  hustled  down  stairs  again. 

"  But  what's  the  dope?  "  says  I.  "  What 
are  my  lines?  " 


SHOWING  TEEDY  THE  DITCH      85 

"  Just  act  natural,  that's  all,"  says  Mr.  Bob- 
ert.  "  No  time  to  tell  you  more.  Here  we  are. 
Ah!  Mrs.  Brooks  Linn,  I've  taken  the  liberty 
of  bringing  in  a  young  business  associate  who 
has  just  brought  me  some  important  news. 
May  I  present  Mr.  Torchy?  " 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  it  didn't  make  much  dif- 
f 'rence  what  he  said;  for  the  old  girl  wa'n't  pay- 
in'  attention,  and  before  he's  half  through  she 
sticks  out  a  pudgy  hand  covered  with  marquise 
rings  and  mumbles  something  about  bein' 
tickled  to  death  to  see  me.  One  of  these  huge, 
triple  chinned  old  parties,  Mrs.  Brooks  Linn  is, 
and  the  way  she's  sittin'  bolstered  up  in  that 
big  chair  fannin'  herself  with  a  dinky  little 
feather  affair  reminds  me  of  a  trick  elephant  in 
skirts. 

Next  I'm  made  acquainted  with  the  real  queen 
of  the  party,  the  Hon.  Miss  Greaves.  With  a 
handle  like  that  to  her  name  I  was  expectin'  a 
tall,  haughty  beaut,  all  neck  and  waist,  like 
you  see  in  the  coronation  pictures ;  but  it  was  a 
bad  guess.  She's  one  of  these  cute,  cuddly 
little  fairies,  with  big,  forget-me-not  blue  eyes, 
and  a  lot  of  silky  gold  hair  knotted  loose  at 
the  back.  She's  dressed  as  simple  as  if  she  was 
costumed  for  a  milkmaid  act,  and  when  she 
shakes  hands  and  says  she's  glad  to  know  me  I'd 
been  willin '  to  take  oath  she  meant  every  word 
of  it.  Think  of  loadin'  a  sweet  young  thing  like 


86  TRYING  OUT  TOECHY 

that  down  with.  "  Honorable,"  as  if  she  was  a 
bloomin'  Congressman!  Ain't  that  English, 
though 1 

I  couldn't  blame  Doc  White  a  bit  for  wantin' 
to  stay  on  the  same  side  of  the  Atlantic  with 
her,  and  I  don't  know  but  I'd  taken  a  chance 
on  exchangin'  some  tea  party  chat  with  her 
myself  if  there 'd  been  an  openin'.  But  there 
wa'n't.  The  center  of  the  stage  and  every- 
body's attention  was  bein'  occupied  just  then 
by  a  round  faced,  rolypoly  young  gent  who  was 
doin'  funny  stunts  at  the  piano.  He  was  stand- 
in'  up  to  it  sort  of  careless,  ticklin'  the  tumpy- 
tum  stuff  out  of  the  keys  in  the  most  surprisin' 
ways,  usin'  his  elbows,  knees,  and  even  his  nose, 
and  windin'  up  by  whirlin'  around  and  sittin' 
slam  down  on  the  north  end  with  a  grand  crash. 
But  you  know  them  parlor  entertainers.  Only 
this  one  was  real  shifty  at  it,  and  he  takes  the 
big  applause  he  gets  with  a  bored  air  that  was 
almost  convincin'. 

"  Isn't  Chubb  just  too  killing!  "  I  hears  Mrs. 
Brooks  Linn  puff  out. 

I'd  just  been  handed  a  cup  of  tea  by  a  young 
lady  floater  and  was  trying  to  balance  a  lettuce 
sandwich  on  the  edge  of  the  saucer,  when  Mr. 
Robert  jumps  to  the  front  and  leads  up  the 
star  performer.  He  introduces  him  as  Mr.  J. 
Chubb  Teedy. 

"  Ah!  "  says  Mr.  Teedy,  winkin'  roguish  at 


SHOWING  TEEDY  THE  DITCH      87 

the  audience.  "  Charmed,  I'm  sure.  And  par- 
don me,  but  what  cheerful  hair!  r 

Course,  I  wa'n't  lookin'  for  any  familiar  josh 
at  that  stage  of  the  game ;  so  I  only  grins  sort 
of  foolish  and  tries  to  back  into  a  corner. 
Seemed  to  encourage  Teedy,  them  bashful  mo- 
tions of  mine,  and  he  follows  on. 

11  Do  you  know,"  says  he, "  I'm  horribly  curi- 
ous about  little  things.  Now  tell  me;  do  you 
stir  your  tea  with  your  right  or  your  left 
hand?  " 

There's  no  gettin'  away  from  J.  Chubb 's 
voice,  either.  It's  one  of  these  brassy,  high 
pitched  society  voices  that  drowns  out  every- 
thing else,  and  I  could  see  everybody  stoppin' 
to  listen  and  look.  Now,  I  was  feelin'  sheepish 
enough  in  that  long  skirted  coat,  without  havin' 
the  limelight  turned  on  me  in  that  fashion ;  but 
I  manages  to  admit  that  I  gener'lly  uses  iny 
right  hand. 

11  Just  fancy!  "  pipes  up  Teedy.  "  Now,  I 
prefer  a  spoon." 

There's  a  roar  over  that  musty  one,  and  I 
tints  up  like  an  autumn  leaf.  After  that  I  near 
chokes  takin'  a  hasty  swallow  of  the  tea  stuff, 
and  gives  a  pretty  punk  exhibition.  Eight  in 
the  midst  of  it,  though,  I  catches  my  breath,  gets 
a  strangle  hold  on  the  panicky  emotions,  and 
sends  back  a  grin. 


88 

"  Spoon,  eh?  "  says  I.  "  Now,  I'd  thought 
a  nursin'  bottle  might  be  more  your  style." 

"  Eh?  "  says  Chubby  boy,  whirlin'  around 
a  little  jarred.  "  Precocious  repartee,  as  I 
live !  What  say,  good  friends,  shall  we  test  the 
mettle  of  this  Knight  of  the  Fiery  Locks  ?  ' ' 

41  Oh,  do,  do!  "  chimes  in  three  or  four  at 
once,  and  fat  old  Mrs.  Brooks  Linn  beams  ap- 
provin'. 

Just  that  little  byplay  gives  me  a  map  of  the 
situation.  They'd  been  lookin'  for  a  goat,  and 
I  was  it.  As  for  J.  Chubb  Teedy,  he  is  one  of 
these  all  star  combinations  who  always  figures 
on  havin'  the  spotlight  to  himself.  He  counts 
on  bein'  played  for  the  drawin'  room  favorite 
against  the  field,  and  I  could  see  where  a  quiet 
chap  like  Doc  White,  or  even  a  slow  mover  like 
•Mr.  Robert,  would  have  to  play  thinkin'  parts 
while  he  was  around.  Course,  I  didn't  know 
how  Mr.  Eobert  would  like  it  if  I  should  cut 
loose  with  the  unpolished  jibe;  but  the  chesty 
ways  of  this  Teedy  party  was  rapidly  gettin'  on 
my  nerves. 

* '  Such  a  charming  little  fellow,  too !  "  he  ob- 
serves, turkeyin'  around  and  examinin'  me  curi- 
ous. "  Perhaps  he  can  sing  for  us?  ' 

"  Never  a  sing,"  says  I. 

"  But  surely,"  he  goes  on,  "  with  so  much 
brilliance  on  top,  you  must  do  something  for  our 
amusement.  Come,  now!  " 


SHOWING  TEEDY  THE  DITCH      89 

"  I  might  recite  your  favorite  poem,"  I  sug- 
gests. 

' '  Hear,  hear !  ' '  says  Teedy.  ' '  Order  in  the 
court!  Our  young  friend  will  now  recite  my 
favorite  poem.  Go !  '  * 

"It's  short,"  says  I,  "  and  it  runs  like  this: 

"  I  like  its  gentle  gurgle, 
I  love  its  fluent  flow: 
I  like  to  wind  my  mouth  up— 
And  I  love  to  hear  it  go! " 

Two  titters  and  a  giggle,  and  I  suspect  them 
got  out  because  it  came  so  unexpected.  The  rest 
was  gasps.  I  didn't  dare  look  Mr.  Eobert's  way 
for  fear  I'd  get  the  shut  off  signal;  so  I  just 
watched  the  changin'  expression  on  J.  Chubb 's 
face.  The  jab  got  through  his  skin,  all  right; 
but  he  pretends  to  yawn  and  then  applauds 
vigorous. 

* '  Truly  subtle,  indeed !  ' '  says  he.  ' '  What  a 
gift  to  be  able  to  memorize  these  jokebook 
things!  " 

"  How  rough  of  you,  Teedy!  "  says  L 
"  Eight  on  the  wrist  that  way!  "  , 

"  I  suppose  that's  something  clever,  too," 
says  he,  sneerin';  "  but  I  fear  I  don't  get 
it." 

"  Oh,  yes,  you  do,"  says  L  "It's  there- 
stuck  in  the  oatmeal." 

Then  it  was  Teedy 's  turn  to  work  up  a  color. 


90  TRYING  OUT  TORCHY 

"  Really,"  says  he,  swingin'  on  Ms  heel,  "I'm 
not  up  on  vaudeville  dialogue,  you  know." 

But  I  wa'n't  goin'  to  let  him  squeal  that  way. 
"  What,  goin'  so  soon?  "  says  I.  "  Who's  that 
with  you?  ' 

Teedy  couldn't  help  givin'  a  quick  glance 
around,  and  then  he  has  to  bite  his  lip  to  keep 
back  the  peevish  reply.  Don't  think,  though,  I 
was  carryin'  the  crowd  with  me.  Most  of  the 
women  was  eyin'  me  slantwise,  and  old  lady 
Brooks  Linn  was  fairly  glarin'. 

How  was  I  to  know  that  Chubby  boy  was  her 
pet  nephew,  and  that  she  'd  been  showin '  off  his 
cunnin'  tricks  ever  since  he  was  knee  high?  I 
got  posted  on  that  afterwards,  also  as  to  her 
plans  for  him  and  Miss  Greaves. 

So  for  the  time  bein'  I  slipped  quiet  into  the 
background  while  a  soothin'  committee  of  six 
females  gathered  around  Mr.  Teedy  and  finally 
succeeded  in  leadin'  him  back  to  the  piano, 
where  there  wa'n't  any  competition.  And  I 
must  say  his  imitation  of  a  country  band  comin' 
home  from  a  firemen's  muster  was  some  comic 
stunt. 

This  starts  him  off  on  imitations,  and  he  was 
gettin'  curtain  calls  reg'lar,  when  Mrs.  Brooks 
Linn's  trained  nurse  comes  in  to  cart  her  off 
for  her  daily  dinner  nap.  It's  a  fixed  event  on 
the  program,  I  understand ;  but  the  old  girl  says 
nobody  must  mind  her  leavin',  and  orders  every- 


SHOWING  TEEDY  THE  DITCH      91 

body  to  stay  and  listen  to  Chubb.  So  the  party 
don't  break  up;  but  the  interruption  gives  me 
a  chance  to  sidle  over  to  Mr.  Robert  and  Doc 
White. 

"  Too  fresh,  was  I?  "  says  I.  "  Well,  I  did- 
n't plan  on  givin'  it  to  him  so  raw;  but — " 

"  I  was  pained,  Torchy,  deeply  pained,"  says 
Mr.  Robert,  winkin'  facetious;  "but  I  expect 
to  recover.  Meanwhile,  should  you  have  an- 
other opportunity,  you  may — er — forget  that  I 
am  here.  Teedy,  you  know,  is  all  right  in  his 
way;  but  he's  a  trifle  too  persistent." 

"  Oh!  "  says  I.  "  You  wouldn't  care  then,  if 
he  was  ditched?  " 

"  The  term  hadn't  occurred  to  me,"  says  Mr. 
Robert;  "  but  if —  Hello,  what  is  he  up  to 
now?  " 

Teedy  had  just  finished  impersonatin'  Na- 
poleon on  the  Rock,  and  after  whisperin'  some- 
thin'  that  set  his  circle  of  admirers  off  into  a 
spasm  of  snickers  he  begins  nianipulatin'  with 
a  linen  table  scarf  and  some  sofa  pillows.  I 
didn't  tumble  to  his  act  until  he  plants  himself 
in  the  old  girl's  big  easy  chair  and  starts  pad- 
din'  himself  out. 

"  Too  bad  Aunty's  missin'  this  turn,"  says  I. 
"  I  wonder  if  she  couldn't  be  brought  down 
for  it?  " 

' '  By  Jove !  ' '  says  Mr.  Robert.  "  If  we  could 
only  manage  it !  " 


92  TRYING  OUT  TORCHY 

"  "Why  not?  "  says  I.  "  Lemme  have  a 
stab." 

With  that  I  slips  out,  beats  it  upstairs,  and 
meets  the  nurse  just  closin'  a  door  soft. 

"  Asleep  yet,  is  she?  "  says  I. 

"  The  madame?  "  says  she.  "  No,  no. 
We've  hardly  begun  to  undo — what  is  it?  " 

"  It— it's  Mr.  Teedy!  "  I  pants  out. 

11  Her  nephew!  "  says  she.  "  Why,  what  is 
the  matter?  Has — has  anything  serious  hap- 
pened? ' 

"  Can't  say  yet,"  says  I,  "  only  they're  all 
standin'  around  him  and — well,  all  I  know  is 
he  don't  look  quite  himself." 

11  Heavens !  "  gasps  the  nurse,  makin'  a  rush 
through  the  door  she'd  just  closed  so  easy. 

Course  it  was  all  well  enough  for  Mr.  Robert 
to  stand  back  and  sick  me  on ;  but  when  it  comes 
to  heavyweight  old  girls  with  a  jaw  like  Mrs. 
Brooks  Linn,  I'd  rather  debate  at  long  range. 
So  I  slips  along  to  the  cloakroom,  makes  a  quick 
change  with  the  obligin'  Tubbman,  and  beats 
her  to  the  lower  hall. 

I  wa'n't  any  too  quick;  for  right  on  my  heels 
comes  Aunty,  puffin'  like  a  steam  derrick  and 
bein'  helped  along  by  the  nurse  and  two  maids. 
I  gives  her  the  right  of  way ;  but  follows  in  far 
enough  to  see  if  the  show  is  still  on.  It  was. 
Teedy  is  makin'  the  hit  of  his  life,  and  the  way 
he  lolls  back  in  that  big  chair,  and  rolls  his  eyes, 


SHOWING  TEEDY  THE  DITCH      93 

and  simpers,  and  uses  a  little  fan,  was  a  dead 
ringer  for  the  old  girl.  Anyway,  he  had  the 
crowd  shriekin',  and  he  was  enjoyin'  himself 
to  the  limit,  until  all  of  a  sudden  he  looks  over 
their  heads  and  sees  her  standin'  between  the 
draperies  glarin'  at  him. 

The  finish?  Say,  you  don't  suppose,  when 
I've  touched  off  the  fuse  myself,  I'm  batty 
enough  to  hang  around  while  the  blast  goes  off? 
By  the  time  she  opened  up  on  him  I  must  have 
been  a  block  away. 

But  it  worked  like  a  charm.  Mr.  Robert  re- 
ports next  day  that  inside  of  ten  minutes  Aunty 
had  disinherited  Chubby  boy  three  times, 
fainted  twice,  and  been  lugged  off  to  her  room 
with  the  nurse  holdin'  smellin'  salts  to  her  nose. 
Also  it  appears  that  Doc  White  stays  through 
the  excitement,  and  grabs  the  first  chance  he's 
had  in  two  weeks  for  to  win'  the  Hon.  Miss 
Greaves  into  the  conservatory  and  whisperin' 
a  few  remarks  in  her  ear.  Must  have  been  right 
to  the  point  too ;  for  the  latest  bulletin  from  him 
is  that  it's  all  settled. 

"  Bough  on  Teedy,  though,"  says  I,  "  losin' 
out  on  both  girl  and  will  at  one  strike." 

"  You  needn't  worry  about  that,"  says  Mr. 
Eobert.  "  He  and  Aunty  made  it  all  up  yes- 
terday. As  a  matter  of  fact,  she  can't  get  along 
without  him." 

"  Sort  of  a  livin'  comic  supplement  for  her, 


94  TRYING  OUT  TORCHY 

is  he?  "  says  I.    "  Well,  that's  one  kind  of  a 
job,  ain't  it?  " 

And,  as  I  was  sayin',  somehow  or  other  we 
all  seem  to  fit  into  the  scheme.  So  there  must 
be  some  system  to  it,  after  all. 


CHAPTER  VI 

SCORING  UP  ONE  FOB  TOOTS  BOY 

ANYWAY,  there's  worse  things  in  the  world 
than  red-headity,  even  when  it  runs  into  such  a 
bonfire  tint  as  mine. 

*  *  Look  out,  Torchy !  ' '  says  one  of  the  humor- 
ists on  our  office  staff.  "  You'll  be  using  a 
celluloid  comb  by  mistake  one  of  these  days,  and 
then — bang ! — you  '11  come  down  here  next  morn- 
ing with  a  head  like  a  peeled  onion." 

"  It'll  do  to  go  with  that  cabbage  you  wear 
a  hat  on,  won't  it?  "  says  I. 

"  Don't  be  grouchy,"  says  he.  "  We  know 
you  didn't  pick  out  that  color  as  a  matter  of 
personal  choice." 

"Ah,  you're  jealous  I"  says  I.  "  If  I 
thought  there  was  danger  of  anybody  imitatin' 
that  shade,  I'd  have  it  copyrighted." 

And,  honest,  I  wouldn't  know  how  to  get 
along  without  my  red  hair.  See  the  fun  it 
brings  in  and  the  folks  it  gets  me  acquainted 
with !  Three  out  of  five  strangers,  after  they've 
had  their  first  glimpse  of  me,  will  turn  away  and 
grin.  The  others  don't  turn  away.  And  me,  I 
grin  back.  Why  not? 

95 


96  TRYING  OUT  TOECHY 

It  was  comin'  down  in  a  scrub  way  train  not 
long  ago  that  my  ruddy  thatch  makes  its  star 
hit,  though.  I  must  have  had  my  cap  off,  lettin' 
some  of  that  non-dividend  producin'  Inter- 
borough  atmosphere  blow  through  my  locks, 
when  I  hears  a  cooin'  little  voice  over  my 
shoulder  going  "  0-o-o-ou!  '  and  I  turns 
around  to  see  a  cute  three-year-old  standin'  up 
on  the  next  seat  to  me,  with  his  eyes  popped  out 
and  a  chubby  forefinger  pointin'  straight  at  my 
topknot. 

"  'Ook,  Mummer!    See!  "  says  he. 

About  the  same  time  Mother  does  look,  dis- 
covers what  Kiddie  is  up  to,  and  grows  red  in 
the  cheeks.  She's  one  of  these  neat,  modest 
dressed,  delicate  tinted,  pleasant  faced  young 
women,  that  acts  like  she  usually  took  things 
calm  and  easy.  But  this  stunt  of  the  youngster's 
in  tryin'  to  advertise  my  still  alarm  seems  to 
get  her  some  fussed. 

"  Why,  Kirby!  "  says  she,  removin'  the  ac- 
cusin'  finger  firm  but  gentle,  and  throwin'  me  a 
smile  carryin'  a  truckload  of  assorted  apol- 
ogies. 

Master  Kirby,  though,  can't  get  over  his  ex- 
citement all  in  a  minute.  He  wants  to  make  sure 
Mother  has  done  justice  to  the  subject.  So  he 
remarks  once  more,  this  time  pipin'  up  strong, 
and  loud,  * '  See,  Mummer,  see !  Pinky  pink !  ' ' 

"  No,  no,"  says  I;  "  reddy  red.    And  watch 


SCOKING  UP  ONE  FOE  TOOTS  BOY   97 

out  or  it'll  burny  burn.  See?  Z-t-t-t-t!  "  and 
with  that  I  wets  one  finger  and  goes  through 
the  motions. 

Course,  that  gets  a  laugh  out  of  him ;  one  of 
these  clear,  hearty,  ripplin'  kid  laughs  that  does 
you  good  to  hear. 

"  Do  again!  Do  again!  "  is  the  way  he 
calls  for  an  encore;  so  I  repeats  the  perform- 
ance. With  that  second  laugh  we  has  everybody 
in  our  end  of  the  car  lettin'  the  reefs  out  of 
their  mouth  corners. 

'  *  More,  more !  ' '  demands  the  kid. 

"  Why,  Kirby !  "  says  Mother,  protestin'  sort 
of  mild. 

* '  It 's  your  turn, ' '  says  I.    ' '  You  try  it. ' ' 

And  Kirby  he  wets  one  finger  generous  and 
sticks  it  out. 

"  Z-t-t-t-t!  "  says  I,  at  which  Kirby  laughs 
so  hard  he  settles  back  into  Mummer 's  lap  good 
and  solid. 

We  kept  up  the  game  too,  from  42d  down  to 
14th,  and  the  more  he  did  it  the  funnier  it 
seemed  to  get.  Course,  I  admit  it  wouldn't  have 
been  so  humorous  from  some  kids ;  but  this  one 
has  such  a  way  of  lookin'  at  you  out  of  them 
big,  round,  brown  eyes,  and  his  cheeks  are  so 
chubby  and  pink,  that  I  guess  most  anything 
he  could  do  would  have  seemed  cute.  You  know 
the  kind.  And  Mother  acted  so  calm  and  sen- 
sible about  it,  not  pretendin'  to  fuss  or  tryin* 


98  TRYING  OUT  TOBCHY 

to  spoil  the  fun  when  she  saw  I  didn't  mind, 
that  I  rides  two  stations  beyond  where  I  should 
have  got  off,  just  for  the  sake  of  amusin'  little 
Kirby.  I  helps  him  across  Broadway  too,  and 
was  goin'  to  beat  it  back  to  the  office  then,  but^ 
he  still  has  a  grip  on  my  finger  and  don't  want 
to  let  go. 

"  Turn,"  says  he.  "  We  go  home.  You  turn 
too." 

"  Well,  I  guess  I  can  go  a  ways,"  says  I. 

"  You  nice  mans,"  says  he.    "  Nice  mans." 

"  Thanks,"  says  I.  "  You're  more  or  less 
popular  with  me  yourself.  What's  your  name, 
eh?  " 

"  Tirby  'Ooker  De  Mott,"  he  comes  back 
quick  as  a  flash. 

"  Well,  that's  some  name,  all  right,"  says  I. 

11  Daddy  tall  me  Toots  Boy,"  says  he. 

"  Toots  Boy,  eh?  "  says  I.  "  Now,  that's 
more  like.  Can  I  call  you  Toots  Boy  too?  ' 

"  You  tan,"  says  he.    "  What's  'oo  name?  " 

' '  Me  ?  "  says  I.  *  *  Why,  I  'm  Torchy, ' '  which 
seems  to  amuse  Mother  a  lot. 

And  by  the  time  I'd  found  they  lived  on  the 
same  street  that  I  do  we  begun  to  get  better 
acquainted.  Toots  Boy  had  made  me  promise 
to  come  in  sometime  and  see  his  ' '  wind-up  bear 
'at  can  hop  dance, ' '  and  I  've  made  a  date  to  take 
him  for  a  Sunday  mornin'  walk. 

Funny,  ain't  it,  how  you'll  pick  up  new  peo- 


SCORING  UP  ONE  FOB  TOOTS  BOY      99 

pie  that  way,  and  how  soon  you  get  to  know  all 
about  'em?  Course,  with  a  ready  converser 
like  Toots  around,  fam'ly  secrets  would  have 
had  a  poor  show.  But  the  De  Motts  didn't 
seem  to  have  any  they  wanted  to  keep  under 
cover.  They  was  just  as  classy  and  refined 
young  folks  as  you  could  dig  up  anywhere  on 
Fifth-ave. ;  but  here  they  was  livin'  on  the  top 
floor  of  one  of  these  old-time,  no  elevator,  rail- 
road flat  houses,  a  whole  block  west  of  the  so- 
ciety belt,  skirmishin'  along  cheap,  and  makin' 
no  bones  of  it. 

They  had  me  guessin'  some  at  first,  specially 
after  I'd  got  to  know  Mr.  De  Mott;  for  he's  a 
fine  lookin',  clean  cut  young  chap,  who  can  put 
over  the  polite  English  as  smooth  and  natural  as 
any  of  Mr.  Robert's  swell  friends.  I  don't 
mean  the  "  Aw,  chaamed  to  meetchu!  "  gush 
that  Piddie  gets  off  to  strangers;  but  the  real 
article,  with  all  the  G's  and  D's  sounded,  and 
the  accents  placed  just  right.  The  way  he  car- 
ries his  chin  up,  and  looks  you  level  between 
the  eyes  when  he  talks,  went  with  the  rest  of  it 
too. 

But  blamed  if  he  wa'n't  still  wearin'  a  sum- 
mer suit,  and  the  overcoat  he  sports  is  one  of 
them  out  of  date  paddocks  that  got  the  hook 
three  or  four  seasons  back.  Seems  that  Mrs. 
De  Mott  is  her  own  cook  too,  and  that  when 
Daddy's  home  he's  chief  dishwiper.  He  had 


100  TRYING  OUT  TORCHY 

his  coat  off  and  was  hard  at  it  first  time  I  went 
up  there  to  get  little  Kirby;  but  he  only  laughs 
and  keeps  right  on  polishin'  off  the  blue 
crockery. 

I'd  sized  him  up  as  holdin'  down  a  twenty- 
five-dollar  a  week  job  with  some  insurance  com- 
pany or  brokers '  firm ;  but  later  on  it  comes  out 
that  he's  his  own  boss.  Seems  he's  in  with  a 
friend  of  his  who's  a  minin'  engineer  and  has 
figured  out  a  patent  ore  car  that  they're  tryin' 
to  get  orders  for,  havin'  as  a  side  line  the  down- 
town agency  for  a  new  gas  mantle  that  pays 
their  office  rent  and  leaves  'em  something  to 
live  on. 

Nothing  very  allurin'  about  them  prospects; 
but  the  De  Motts  seemed  to  be  takin'  it  cheer- 
ful. Anyway,  it  would  been  hard  workin'  up 
much  gloom  with  Toots  Boy  around;  for  he's 
just  so  many  pounds  of  condensed  sunshine. 
First  off  he  has  to  show  Daddy  how  my  hair 
goes  "  Z-t-t-t-t!  "  when  you  touch  your  finger 
to  it. 

11  Pinky  pink!  "  he  chuckles. 

"  All  right,"  says  I.  "  Let  it  go  as  pink;  but 
you're  either  jollyin',  or  else  you're  color  blind. 
Now  all  aboard  for  our  walky  walk. ' ' 

It  was  a  lively  promenade  we  had,  Toots  Boy 
and  me;  with  him  toddlin'  along  holdin'  onto 
my  hand,  askin'  questions  as  fast  as  he  could 
get  'em  out,  and  fillin'  in  any  gaps  with  chunks 


SCORING  UP  ONE  FOR  TOOTS  BOY    101 

of  information  about  Daddy  and  Mummer  and 
the  wind-up  bear.  Wish  I  could  remember  some 
of  them  choice  bits;  but  there  was  too  many 
of  'em. 

Besides,  what  I  want  to  get  to  is  last  Satur- 
day afternoon.  I'd  been  tellin'  Zenobia  and 
Martha,  the  prize  pair  of  old  ladies  that  I  live 
with,  all  about  Toots,  and  I'd  planned  to  show 
him  off  to  them.  So  as  soon  as  quittin'  time 
comes  I  fades  from  the  Corrugated  Trust's 
gen'ral  office,  leavin'  the  brass  gate  wide  open, 
and  chases  around  to  the  top  flat  after  little 
Kirby.  It  don't  take  long  for  Mother  to  button 
on  his  leggin's  and  coat,  in  spite  of  his  dancin' 
up  and  down  and  announcing  "  See  gol'  fisses, 
Mummer !  Torchy  take  me  see  gol '  fisses !  ' 

"  Sure,"  says  I.  "  Swimmin'  around  in  a 
glass  tank.  And  a  little  turtle,  too,  right  in 
the  front  window." 

You  see,  Aunt  Martha's  goldfish  had  been 
the  bait  I'd  held  out,  and  he'd  jumped  at  it 
eager.  Maybe  he  don't  look  some  cute  too,  in 
that  reefer  of  his,  and  his  little  cap  that  don't 
half  cover  up  all  the  brown  curls,  and  them  big 
eyes  just  sparklin'  with  fun  and  good  nature! 
Honest,  I  was  most  as  proud  of  exhibitin'  Kirby 
as  if  he'd  been  some  relation  of  my  own. 

So  when  I  gets  to  the  house  and  sees  who  it 
is  Aunt  Martha's  entertainin'  in  the  sittin' 
room,  I'm  some  sore.  It's  Miss  Agnes,  which 


102  TRYING  OUT  TOECHY 

means  that  Zenobia  has  either  beat  it,  or  shut 
herself  in  somewhere  up  stairs.  That  don't 
sound  much  like  Zenobia,  either;  for  she's  an 
easy  tempered  old  girl  and  a  good  sport  who 
gen 'rally  takes  things  as  they  come.  But  this 
niece  of  hers  and  Martha's  is  the  one  party  who 
seems  to  get  on  her  nerves. 

I'll  admit  she'd  get  on  mine  too;  for,  while 
she's  a  swell  looker,  and  wears  her  clothes  like 
a  thoroughbred,  she  always  struck  me  as  a 
mighty  frosty  proposition. 

That  ain't  just  because  of  the  row  she  raised 
at  the  time  she  heard  of  my  being  taken  in, 
either.  There's  something  about  the  cuttin' 
way  she  says  things,  and  the  sharp  edge  she 
gets  on  her  voice,  that  rubs  me  the  wrong  way. 
Also  there  ain't  anything  friendly  in  her  man- 
ner in  lookin'  you  over.  Besides  that,  she  gen'- 
rally  has  a  headache  just  comin'  on,  or  just 
passin'  off,  and  as  a  rule  she's  all  worked  up 
over  some  awfully  mean  thing  that's  been 
done  to  her  by  one  of  her  most  intimate 
friends. 

Oh,  I've  heard  Agnes  discussed  often  enough 
to  know  her  from  the  ground  up ;  for  Aunt  Mar- 
tha thinks  she's  just  about  right,  and  Zenobia 
holds  diff'rent  views. 

"  The  poor  child!  "  Martha  would  sigh  after 
one  of  her  visits. 

"  Let's    see,"    says    Zenobia, — "  Agnes    is 


SCORING  UP  ONE  FOE  TOOTS  BOY    103 

twenty-six,  isn't  she?  That's  what  I  call  an 
old  maid." 

"  But  surely,  Zenobia,"  comes  back  Martha, 
"  you  wouldn't  blame  her  for — " 

"  I  would,  and  I  do!  "  says  Zenobia  decided. 
"  At  sixteen  she  was  a  lovely  and  somewhat 
charming  girl,  only  beginning  to  be  spoiled.  At 
nineteen  she  was  a  beauty,  with  her  whole 
family,  a  big  circle  of  friends,  and  goodness 
knows  how  many  nice  young  men  anxious  to  let 
her  use  them  as  doormats.  Eesult:  a  selfish, 
ill  natured,  thoroughly  spoiled  young  person. 
It's  a  national  custom,  I  know;  but  that  doesn't 
make  it  less  silly." 

"  I'm  sure  Agnes  seems  to  be  just  as  popu- 
lar as  ever,"  protests  Martha. 

11  Meaning  that  she  is  always  on  the  go, — 
dinners,  dances,  bridge,  theater  parties,  and  so 
on.  I  know,"  says  Zenobia.  "  That  kind  of 
popularity  is  easily  kept  up;  but  it  isn't  cheap. 
You  pay  the  price.  Agnes  is  paying  now.  This 
last  breakdown  of  hers  was  nerves,  wasn't  it? 
No  wonder!  " 

"  I  suppose  you  would  have  a  brilliant  girl 
like  that  bury  herself  in  the  suburbs,  with  three 
or  four  crying  children  to  bring  up?  "  says 
Martha. 

"  That  would  be  exactly  my  advice,"  says 
Zenobia.  "  She'd  have  something  worth  doing 
then,  and  she  wouldn't  be  growing  into  an  acid 


104  TRYING  OUT  TOECHY 

dispositioned  society  old  maid.  She  has  had 
her  chances,  three  of  them  to  my  knowledge." 

"  But  all  three  engagements  she  broke  her- 
self, you  know,"  says  Martha. 

"  Because  she  wouldn't  give  up  any  of  her 
fun,"  says  Zenobia.  "  It  costs  three  thousand 
a  year  to  keep  Agnes  going,  and  not  one  of 
those  young  men  could  afford  that.  She  knew 
it,  and  they  knew  it.  Bah!  I've  no  patience 
with  such  girls !  And  there  are  thousands  like 
her,  I  presume.  Thank  goodness  there  are 
plenty  of  the  other  kind  too,  so  the  race  keeps 
on!  " 

Course,  when  it  comes  to  an  argument,  Aunt 
Martha  ain't  one-two-sixteen  with  Zenobia,  who 
always  has  plenty  of  facts  and  language  to  back 
up  her  opinions.  And  while  I  never  took  much 
notice  of  the  fine  points  of  the  debate,  I  was 
strong  for  the  gen'ral  proposition  that  Agnes 
was  just  a  limedrop  done  up  in  a  fancy  package. 

So,  instead  of  announcin'  with  a  whoop  that 
I'd  brought  in  Toots  Boy,  I  smuggles  him  into 
the  front  room,  plants  him  alongside  the  goldfish 
tank,  and  goes  scoutin'  back  to  see  if  I  can  find 
Zenobia  anywhere.  There  was  no  dodgin'  Ag- 
nes, though.  She  spots  me  as  I'm  gumshoein' 
down  the  hallway  and  holds  me  up  with,  "  I 
say,  who  is  that?  ' 

"  Me,"  says  I,  stickin'  my  head  in  the  door. 

"  Oh,  you!  "  says  Agnes,  sort  of  sniffing 


SCOEING  UP  ONE  FOE  TOOTS  BOY    105 

"  Uh-huh,"  says  I,  lookin'  past  her  to  Mar- 
tha. "I've  got  the  youngster  in  the  other 
room." 

"  What  youngster?  "  demands  Agnes. 

So  Martha  has  to  explain  that  it's  a  little 
boy  from  down  the  block  that  I've  got  ac- 
quainted with. 

"  How  perfectly  absurd!  "  says  Agnes. 
"  Bringing  strange  children  in  from  the 
street!  " 

"  Excuse  me,"  says  I,  "  but  this  one  come 
straight  from  home." 

"  Yes,  and  no  knowing  what  disease  germs 
he  may  bring  with  him !  ' '  says  Agnes.  '  *  That 's 
the  way  the  Coulter  children  contracted  diph- 
theria, you  know,  Aunt  Martha.  You  shouldn't 
allow  it." 

* '  Mercy !  ' '  squeals  Martha.  * '  Are  you  sure 
he  hasn't  diphtheria,  Torchy?  " 

"  Say,"  says  I,  "  you  just  take  a  squint  zfr 
him,  and  if  you  think  little  Kirby  looks  like — " 

"  Kirby!  "     breaks    in    Agnes.       "  Kirby 


"  Why,  Kirby  Hooker  De  Mott,  Junior,'1 
says  I. 

"  What!  "  says  she,  sittin'  up  straight  and 
changin'  color. 

"  Maybe  you'd  like  to  hear  him  say  it!  " 
says  I. 

"  No,  no!  "  says  she.    "  I  don't  want  to  see 


106  TRYING  OUT  TORCHY 

the  child.  But  tell  me,  do  you  know  his — his 
father?  " 

"  Sure  thing,"  says  I.  "  And  he's  all  right, 
too." 

"  Do  you  think,  Agnes,"  says  Aunt  Martha, 
"  it  can  be  the  young  Mr.  De  Mott  whom 
you — " 

"  Oh,  I've  not  the  least  doubt;  the  three 
names,  you  know,"  says  Agnes.  "  So  he's  mar- 
ried, is  he?  "  and  she  gives  a  hard  little  laugh 
that's  about  as  merry  as  breakin'  a  pane  of 
glass. 

"  Married?  "  says  I.  "  Well,  I  guess  you'd 
think  so  to  see  him  with  an  apron  on,  helpin* 
Mrs.  De  Mott  around  the  flat!  He  sure  looks 
some  domestic  then." 

"  And  what  is  she  like — Mrs.  De  Mott?  "  says 
Agnes. 

"  She's  a  corker,  Mrs.  De  Mott  is,"  says  I. 
"  Not  one  of  your  hobble  skirt  queens,  of 
course ;  but  the  kind  that  shows  up  as  well  in  a 
dustin'  cap  as  she  would  in  a  Paris  lid,  if  she 
had  one.  And,  say,  she  can  build  a  dumplin' 
beef  stew  that 's  a  dream !  ' : 

"  Really!  "  says  Agnes,  archin'  them  curved 
eyebrows  of  hers  a  little  more.  "  Perhaps  you 
know  her  first  name?  ' 

"  Lucy,"  says  I. 

Agnes  bites  her  lip  some  at  that,  and  as  Aunt 
Martha  is  lookin'  over  inquirin'  she  remarks. 


SCORING  UP  ONE  FOR  TOOTS  BOY    107 

"  The  youngest  Whittmore  girl;  you  remember, 
they  came  from  somewhere  near  Boston.  Kirby 
knew  them  while  he  was  at  college.  So  Kirby 
lives  in  a  flat  and  his  wife  does  her  own  house- 
work? Ha,  ha!  Doesn't  that  sound  odd,  Aunt 
Martha?  " 

"  But  you  knew,  Agnes,*'  says  Martha,  "  that 
his  father  left  almost  nothing." 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  knew,"  says  Agnes.  "  I  believe 
he  told  me  something  of  the  sort  one  night 
when —  Well,  never  mind  now.  I  wonder, 
though,  if  Kirby  can  wipe  dishes  as  well  as  he 
used  to  lead  the  cotillion?  " 

"  He  ain't  any  slouch  at  the  dishwipin'  game, 
anyway,"  says  I. 

"  I  hope  that  isn't  his  whole  occupation," 
says  Agnes,  smilin'  sarcastic  at  Martha.  "  Do 
you  know  if  he  does  anything  else?  " 

"  "Well,"  says  I,  "  he  sells  gas  mantles  in  th$ 
downtown  district." 

"  A  peddler?  "  says  Agnes. 

"  Not  much!  "  says  I.  "  He's  outside  agent. 
But,  say,  maybe  he  won't  always  be  doin'  that, 
either.  Wait  until  him  and  his  partner  get  in 
some  orders  for  their  new  ore  cars.  It's  a  long 
shot,  I  expect;  but  some  day  it  may  land  him 
right." 

"  How  thrilling!  "  says  Agnes.  "  Meanwhile 
he  helps  with  the  dishes.  You  see,  Aunt  Mar- 
jth?,  what  I  missed.  I'm  sure  I  couldn't  evem 


108  TRYING  OUT  TOECHY 

help  make  a  beefstew.     And  as  for  waiting 
years  and  years  for  some  patent  to — " 

"  Maybe  it  won't  be  so  many  years,"  says  I. 
"  I've  steered  him  up  against  Mr.  Ellins  of  the 
Corrugated  Trust,  and  if  he  can  get  our  firm  to 
place  an  order  he'll  be  on  Easy  Street." 

"  And  then,"  says  Agnes,  "  I  suppose  Mrs. 
De  Mott  will  have  a  maid,  and  perhaps  move 
into  a  larger  flat?  How  gorgeous!  Perhaps 
too  there  will  be  a  nurse  for  little  Kirby 
and—" 

"  I'm  tummin'!  I'm  tummin'! ':  pipes  a 
little  voice  full  of  laughs.  "  I  made  fisses  go 
wound  and  wound!  "  and  in  rushes  Toots  Boy, 
all  excited,  with  his  cheeks  like  a  flower  shop 
window,  and  his  round  eyes  just  dancin'. 
"  Oh,"  says  he,  stoppin'  in  front  of  Agnes  and 
sizin'  her  up  admirin'.  "  Pitty,  pitty!  " 

And  Agnes,  she  sits  there  starin'  at  little 
Kirby  like  she  was  seein'  a  ghost. 

11  I  like  'oo,"  he  remarks.  And  then,  holdin* 
out  both  hands  and  springin'  one  of  them  win- 
nin'  smiles  of  his,  he  demands,  "  'Oo  takes 
up  Toots  Boy?  Yes?" 

She  tries  to  look  somewhere  else,  first  at  Aunt 
Martha,  and  then  at  the  door;  but  it's  no  use. 
There  stands  Toots  Boy  right  in  front  of  her, 
with  his  arms  out  coaxin',  and  that  admirin' 
look  on  his  face. 

Agnes  turns  white  and  then  red,  and  seems 


SCORING  UP  ONE  FOR  TOOTS  BOY    109 

to  be  tryin'  to  swallow  something.  But  all  of 
a  sudden  she  reaches  out  and  grabs  him  up. 
Toots  Boy  knows  what  to  do  then,  all  right. 
He  puts  his  arms  right  around  her  neck  and 
gives  her  a  reg'lar  bear  hug,  just  like  he  gives 
Mummer,  or  anyone  else  that's  nice. 

Does  that  get  Agnes'?  Say,  it  would  have 
melted  icicles  off'm  an  iron  lamp  post!  And 
after  he's  let  her  cuddle  him  a  minute,  he  just 
naturally  takes  her  by  one  hand,  and  Aunt  Mar- 
tha by  the  other,  and  tows  'em  into  the  front 
room  to  see  how  he  can  make  the  "  fisses  go 
wound  and  wound  ' '  after  his  pink  finger. 

"  You  darling!  "  says  Agnes,  givin'  him  a 
final  hug  when  the  half -hour  is  up  and  I  starts 
to  take  him  back  to  the  flat. 

We'd  got  only  about  ten  doors  down  when  I 
discovers  that  one  of  Kirby's  woolen  gloves  is 
missin';  so  we  trails  back  as  far  as  our  front 
steps  and  I  leaves  him  there  while  I  skips  in 
after  it. 

That's  how  I  come  to  bust  into  the  sittin' 
room  without  warnin'  and  find  Agnes  face  down 
on  the  big  couch  sobbin '  away  to  beat  the  band, 
and  dampenin'  a  perfectly  good  sofa  pillow 
most  reckless.  Now  what's  my  cue  in  a  case  like 
that?  I  didn't  have  the  answer,  and,  as  there's 
the  missin'  glove  on  the  floor,  I  picks  it  up  and 
backs  out  without  sayin'  a  word. 

At  the  flat  I  finds  Mr.  De  Mott,  with  a  beamin' 


110  TRYING  OUT  TOECHY 

face  and  his  arm  around  Mrs.  De  Mott  in  a 
reg'lar  lovers'  clinch. 

"  Torchy,"  he  shouts,  hammerin'  me  on  the 
back  with  his  free  hand,  "  you're  a  brick!  The 
Corrugated  will  take  our  cars.  Hurrah!  " 

But,  say,  what  I  can't  quite  figure  out  yet  ia 
just  why  Agnes  did  the  weep  act.  Can  you! 


CHAPTER 

A  BOOST  FOB  THE  BENOS 

MUST  have  been  my  day  for  standin'  at  the 
receivin'  end  of  the  hard  luck  wire.  First  off 
it  was  Izzy  Budheimer,  givin'  me  a  long  ear- 
ache of  how  his  cousin  Ike  was  tryin'  to  over- 
bid him  on  that  cloakroom  snap  of  his;  then  it 
was  Miss  Smickett,  our  crack  lady  typist,  who 
unloads  a  tale  of  boardin'  house  woe;  and  lastly 
comes  Mr.  Piddie,  grouchin'  away  because 
there  was  a  block  in  the  tube  and  he  was  half 
an  hour  late  gettin'  over  from  Jersey. 

And  all  this  on  a  bright,  snappy  mornin',  with 
a  sky  as  clear  as  a  plate  glass  show  window, 
and  the  air  tastin'  like  imported  ginger  ale. 

11  Ah,  ditch  it!  "  says  I  to  Piddie.  "  You 
commuters  ought  to  feel  thankful  to  be  let  into 
New  York  at  all." 

And  I  thought  when  I  made  a  dash  for  the 
Dairy  Lunch  three  minutes  before  the  noon 
whistle  blew  that  I'd  shunted  all  them  dole- 
ful confidences  for  an  hour  at  least.  Just  as 
I'm  gettin'  in  line  for  the  pie  counter,  though, 
I  gets  a  glimpse  of  a  tall,  slim  young  gent  who's 
sidlin' up  to  the  coffee  urn  and  pullin'  a  tin  pail 

ill 


112  TRYING  OUT  TOBCHY 

sort  of  sheepish  out  of  a  paper  bag.  So  I  takes 
another  look,  and  of  course,  the  minute  I  spots 
them  deep  set,  blue  eyes  and  the  lengthy,  serious 
face,  I  has  him  located. 

"  Well,  well!  "  says  I,  steppin'  over  to  where 
he's  waitin'  his  turn.  "  And  how's  Skimp  Far- 
rell  these  days?  " 

Jars  him  almost  as  bad  as  if  I'd  jabbed  him 
with  a  pin.  He  whirls  around  nervous,  and 
then  when  he  sees  who  it  is  he  sighs  sort  of 
relieved. 

1 '  Oh,  it 's  you,  eh,  Torchy  ?  ' '  says  he. 

"  Uh-huh,"  says  I.  "  But  why  the  deep  de- 
ception with  the  Mocha  growler?  What's  the 
game?  " 

"  That's  right,  rub  it  in!  "  says  Skimp. 
"  Think  I'm  doing  this  to  show  off?  Hardly, 
Son,  hardly.  But,  if  you  must  know,  pilot  bread 
and  coffee  in  the  room  are  a  heap  better  than 
parading  Broadway  with  that  gnawing  feeling 
under  your  vest.  A  quart,  please,  and  plenty  of 
milk.  Eight  lumps  will  do." 

' '  Tut,  tut !  ' '  says  I.  ' '  And  you  the  only  real 
actor  I  got  on  my  list !  But  I  thought  since  you 
jumped  the  newspaper  game  and  landed  on  the 
big  vaudeville  circuit  you  was  a  sure  win- 
ner." 

"  Looked  so  at  the  start,  didn't  it?  "  says 
Skimp.  "  But  you  can't  keep  on  with  one  act 
forever,  and  I  couldn't  get  another  sketch  that 


A  BOOST  FOB  THE  BENOS        113 

would  fit  as  snug.  First  season  I've  missed  out 
on  some  sort  of  booking,  though;  but  I'm  sure 
up  against  it  this  time." 

"  Not  really,  Skimp?  "  says  I. 

"  Look  at  this,"  says  he,  holdin'  up  the  cor- 
ner of  a  rusty  black  frock  coat  and  discloshr 
a  near  satin  linin'  worn  to  ribbons.  "  Last 
piece  in  the  costume  trunk.  Got  any  cigarette 
papers  to  spare?  I  still  have  half  a  bag  of 
alfalfa." 

"  I  can  do  better 'n  that,  if  you'll  meet  me  at 
six-thirty  to-night,"  says  I.  "  I'll  stand  for 
the  big  eats  and  feel  proud  of  it." 

"  Welcome  words!  "  says  Skimp,  chokin'  up 
husky  and  pattin'  me  friendly.  "  Torchy, 
that's  the  first  genuine  call  to  free  food  I've 
heard  in  two  months,  and  I've  never  listened 
harder.  Thanks,  Son,  deep  thanks,  and  if  ever 
the  time  comes  when  you — " 

1 1  Ah,  turn  a  rule  on  that !  ' '  says  I.  * '  Sup- 
pose I've  forgot  them  press  seats  you  used  to 
slip  me  when  we  was  on  the  Sunday  edition  to- 
gether? Not  a  chance!  And  if  you'll  bring 
your  appetite  to  the  corner  of — " 

"  No,  no!  "  breaks  in  Skimp.  "I'd  like  to; 
but  it  must  not  be.  Can't  go  back  on  the  rest 
of  the  firm,  you  know." 

"  Eh?  "  says  I.  "  How  big  an  aggregation 
is  it,  anyway?  " 

And  as  I  walks  across  the  square  with  Skimp, 


114  TRYING  OUT  TORCHY 

shieldin'  the  coffee  between  us,  lie  gives  a  sketch 
of  the  situation.  Seems  he's  one  of  the  Broth- 
ers Beno,  that  does  a  burlesque  jugglin'  act, 
with  acrobatics  on  the  side.  There's  three  of 
'em  all  told,  and  only  one  is  an  original  Beno, 
Skimp  havin'  been  signed  on  when  little  Al  Beno 
gave  up  early  last  spring  and  took  his  cough 
out  to  Denver.  They  did  well  enough  in  the 
summer  snap  circuit,  makin '  fair  money  at  open 
air  resort  houses;  but  when  it  come  to  gettin' 
indoor  dates  for  the  winter  there  was  nothiny 
doin'.  You  know  how  good  a  jugglin'  act  has 
to  be  to  get  a  hand  nowadays,  and  I  judge  theirs 
must  have  been  more  or  less  punk,  with  their 
hobo  makeups  and  their  back  number  lines. 

"  We  did  have  one  offer,"  says  Skimp,  "  to 
fill  in  between  the  pictures ;  but  Beno  shied  at  it 
and  we  curled  the  lip  of  scorn.  Od  Zooks !  if  it 
would  only  come  again!  For  one,  I'd  be  glad 
to  play  for  a  film  machine :  anything  to  get  off 
this  pilot  bread  and  coffee  diet.  Well,  here's 
my  corner." 

* '  Then  this  is  where  I  look  for  you  and  your 
friends  at  half  after  six?  "  says  I. 

"  But  see  here,  Son,"  protests  Skimp.  "  I 
can't  stack  up  a  trio  of  bottomless  pits  against 
a  pay  envelope  the  size  of  yours." 

11  Pooh,  pooh!"  says  I.  "Likewise  tush! 
Why,  Skimp,  just  the  extra  coin  I  rake  in  is 
enough  to  sag  my  pockets.  Besides,  I  know  a 


A  BOOST  FOE  THE  BENOS        115 

fifty-cent  table  d'hote  where  the  spaghetti 
1'Italienne  alone  is  a  sure  cure  for  famine. 
Anyway,  I'll  be  here  waitin'." 

"  I  surrender,"  says  Skimp.  "  You'll  find  us 
forming  a  hollow  square." 

But  the  climax  of  the  day  comes  when  Mr. 
Robert  tries  to  switch  Bertie  Billings  and  his 
glooms  off  onto  me  that  same  afternoon.  Nice 
boy,  Bertie,  if  you  don't  scratch  him  too  deep, — 
one  of  the  fair  haired,  pink  cheeked  kind,  who 
thinks  shredded  thoughts  and  devotes  his  whole 
soul  to  the  job  of  makin'  good  in  the  younger 
set. 

Near  as  I  can  make  out,  Bertie's  chief  aim  in 
life  is  to  be  picked  to  lead  a  swell  cotillion  some- 
time and  wipe  out  the  smear  on  the  fam'ly  es- 
cutcheon caused  by  the  bad  breaks  made  by  Pa 
and  Maw  Billings  when  they  moved  east  from 
Milwaukee  and  tried  to  butt  in  on  the  strength 
of  their  brewery  stock  and  the  new  marble 
bathroom. 

Bertie's  been  well  parlor  broke,  though,  and 
he's  been  comin'  on  slow  but  sure,  now  that  Pa 
and  Maw  have  faded  into  the  background.  But 
there's  more  or  less  competition,  even  in  the 
line  he's  picked  out,  and  it's  only  now  and  then 
he  figures  in  the  social  notes.  He  belongs  to 
some  good  clubs,  though,  and  he  lets  Mr.  Robert 
do  him  often  at  billiards,  and  occasion 'ly  they 
stroll  back  to  the  office  together  after  lunch. 


116  TRYING  OUT  TORCHY 

This  was  one  of  Bertie's  days,  and  as  they're 
about  to  part  at  the  brass  gate  he  seems  to  be 
makin'  some  sort  of  an  appeal  for  help. 

"  But  I  cawn't  think  of  a  single  thing,"  he's 
sayin',  "  and  I've  simply  got  to  go  Reggie  one 
better,  you  know !  ' ; 

"  Let's  see,"  says  Mr.  Robert,  "  what  was 
Reggie's  great  masterpiece?  ' 

"  Trout  in  a  pool,"  says  Bertie.  "  Had  it 
sunk  in  the  table,  and  the  guests  caught  their 
own  fish — souvenir  fishing  rods,  and  all  that. 
Rippin'  scheme,  bah  Jove !  Wish  I'd  thought  of 
it  first,  y'know." 

"  Why  not  have  a  duck  pond,  then,"  sug- 
gests Mr.  Robert,  "  and  let  your  guests  shoot 
their  own  game  during  the  soup  course — sou- 
venir shotguns,  too?  ' 

11  But,  I  say,  Bob,"  chimes  in  Bertie  eager, 
"  do  you  think —  Oh,  come,  now!  It  couldn't 
be  done.  Don't  chaff,  old  man.  This  is  serious, 
y'know.  There's  a  monkey  dinner,  but  that's 
been  done,  and  a  girl  in  a  pie.  Oh,  I  say,  cawn't 
you  tell  me  a  new  one?  I'm  floored,  absolutely 
floored !  '  And  with  that  Bertie  groans  like  he 
was  in  real  pain. 

11  Sorry,"  says  Mr.  Robert,  "  but  I  haven't 
an  idea.  You  might  ask  Torchy  here,  though." 

Bertie,  he  takes  one  glance  at  me,  and  then 
gives  another  groan.  "  Don't  be  a  brute, 
Bob!  "  says  he. 


A  BOOST  FOR  THE  BENOS        117 

"  Why,"  says  Mr.  Robert,  "  Torchy  is  our 
emergency  man.  Isn't  that  so,  Torchy?  ' 

"  Sure!  "  says  I,  grinnin'  back.  "  Idea  ex- 
pert and  brain  reserve  for  the  whole  shop,  also 
frettin'  done  for  fussy  folks." 

Bertie  boy  ain't  in  a  mood  for  bein'  joshed, 
though,  and  he  pouts  real  pettish. 

"  There,  there!  "  says  Mr.  Robert.  "  If  I 
hadn't  a  directors'  meeting  on  hand  I  should 
see  what  I  could  do,  Bertie.  But  you've  heard 
Torchy  describe  himself:  why  not  call  his 
bluff?  " 

"  My  rates  for  dinner  ideas  are  twenty  a 
throw,"  says  I. 

"  Twenty!  "  says  Bertie.    "  I'd  give  fifty." 

'  *  Done !  ' '  says  Mr.  Robert,  and  then  he  turns 
to  me.  "  Now,  young  man,  there's  a  commis- 
sion for  you.  Come  around  at  ten  in  the  morn- 
ing, Bertie,  and  Torchy  will  tell  you  all  about 
it.  So  long,  old  chap,  and  don't  worry,"  and  at 
that  Mr.  Robert  hustles  into  his  private  office, 
leavin '  me  and  Bertie  starin '  at  each  other  with 
our  mouths  open.  He  was  takin'  it  mighty  seri- 
ous. Bertie  was  too,  which  seems  to  me  a  lot 
like  goin '  far  to  find  trouble.  But  I  can  be  real 
cheerin'  when  I  try  hard. 

"  Whoops,  m'  dear!  "  says  I. 

"  Eh!  "  says  Bertie. 

"  Ah,  don't  you  know  the  answer  to  that?  ' 
says  I.    "  Say,  '  I'm  a  daffodil.'    All  of  which 


118  TRYING  OUT  TORCHY 

means,  Mr.  Billings,  that  you're  to  chirk  up." 

"  I — I  don't  in  the  least  understand,"  says 
Bertie. 

"  All  right;  deep  coises,  then,"  says  I;  "  but 
be  sure  and  sound  the  K  soft,  as  in  scissors,  and 
when  you  cross  Madison  Square  don't  get  lost 
in  the  woods." 

Honest,  it  was  almost  a  shame  to  waste  good 
kiddin'  on  a  nonresister  like  Bertie;  but  I  had 
to  pass  on  something  to  pay  for  what  Mr.  Rob- 
ert had  handed  me. 

Then  I  got  to  thinkin'  it  over,  and  wonderin' 
if  it  was  all  josh.  Suppose  I  could  work  up  a 
scheme  good  enough  to  connect  me  with  that 
fifty1?  Ever  try  exercisin'  your  mind  on  a  fool 
problem  like  that?  Well,  it  ain't  such  a  cinch 
as  it  seems,  and  inside  of  an  hour  I  was  almost 
sympathizin'  with  Bertie.  Then  comes  Mr.  Rob- 
ert, as  he  leaves  for  the  day,  shovin'  it  at  me 
once  more. 

"  Remember,"  says  he,  "  that  we  are  rely- 
ing on  you  to  plan  that  dinner  entertainment." 

And  I  knew  Mr.  Robert.  He  thought  he'd 
slipped  something  humorous  on  me  this  time, 
and  he'd  be  bringin'  it  up  for  a  month  after  as  a 
case  where  I'd  had  a  chance  and  couldn't  make 
good.  But  couldn't  I?  By  closin'  time  I  had 
the  wheels  goin'  round  at  high  speed,  and  all  I 
could  grind  out  was  batty  notions  that  even 
Bertie  would  have  been  ashamed  to  own. 


A  BOOST  FOB  THE  BENOS        119 

So  when  it  comes  time  for  to  win'  the  Brothers 
Beno  out  to  Friccasini's  I  wa'n't  feelin'  as 
chesty  as  usual.  They  was  waitin'  on  the  cor- 
ner, all  right,  and  a  worse  mated  trio  I  never 
saw  bunched.  The  original  Beno  was  as  short 
and  thick  as  Skimp  Farrell  was  tall  and  slim, 
and  twice  as  solemn  to  look  at,  which  was  sayin* 
a  good  deal.  You  wouldn't  any  more  expect 
him  to  go  in  for  athletic  stunts  than  you'd  look 
for  a  truck  horse  to  perform  well  on  roller 
skates.  As  for  the  third  party,  he  was  a  me- 
dium sized  gent  by  the  name  of  Lavine.  He 
had  a  pair  of  bowlegs  and  a  face  that  was  as 
near  a  blank  as  anything  human  I  ever  saw. 
Somehow,  the  combination  was  funny  just  to 
look  at  'em  in  repose,  and  I  couldn't  figure 
how  they  had  ever  managed  to  miss  out. 

Just  to  keep  the  table  chat  goin'  while  we 
was  samplin'  the  onion  soup,  I  gets  Skimp  to 
tell  me  about  their  act. 

* '  Why, ' '  says  he, ' '  we  open  in  two  flats,  pic- 
nic scene  set,  and  we  come  creeping  in  from  the 
wings,  firing  off  gags  until  we  discover  the 
lunch  baskets.  That's  our  cue  for  beginning  to 
juggle  the  dishes — you  know,  plate  twirling,  and 
all  that." 

"  Eh?  "  says  I,  being  struck  with  a  sudden 
thought.  "  Can  you  all  juggle  crockery?  ' 

Skimp  not  only  says  they  can,  but  proceeds  to 
give  a  sample  by  spinnin'  his  soup  plate  on  his 


120  TRYING  OUT  TORCHY 

forefinger;  while  Mr.  Lavine  gathers  up  a  few 
forks  and  knives  and  starts  a  circle  over  his 
head.  They  almost  had  the  head  waiter  throw- 
in'  a  fit  when  I  gave  'em  the  stop  signal. 

"  Enough  said,"  says  I.  "  What  else  do  you 
hand  out?  " 

"  We  give  a  burlesque  trapeze  act  for  a  fin- 
ish," says  Skimp. 

11  Not  with  him!  "  says  I,  noddin'  at  Beno. 

"  Feel  that,"  says  Beno,  holdin'  out  his  right 
arm.  The  muscle  felt  like  a  brick  under  his 
coat  sleeve. 

'  *  Think  you  could  do  them  turns  at  a  private 
dinner  party  without  smashin'  any  expensive 
china  or  spoilin'  any  gowns?  "  says  I. 

"  Would  there  be  a  stage?  "  asks  Beno. 

"  Stage  nothin'!  "  says  I.  "  You  don't  get 
the  idea.  Now  listen,"  and  I  proceeds  to 
sketch  out  the  hasty  stunt  I'd  thought  of. 

Skimp  and  Lavine  said  they  was  ready  for 
anything;  but  Beno  shakes  his  head  disapprov- 
in'.  He  was  afraid  it  wouldn't  be  quite  a  dig- 
nified thing  to  do,  he  said,  and  he'd  hate  to  get 
mixed  up  in  anything  that  would  lower  his  pro- 
fessional standing. 

Could  you  believe  it?  And  him  not  able  to 
look  his  landlady  in  the  face !  Honest,  I  had  to 
coax  him  into  sayin'  he'd  come,  for  the  sake  of 
the  others;  but  he  wanted  it  understood  that 
this  was  an  awful  blow  to  his  pride.  He  was  a 


A  BOOST  FOE  THE  BENOS        121 

bird,  this  owl  faced  Mr.  Beno  was ;  but  I  could 
see  it  was  all  genuine.  He  talked  about  his 
Art  as  serious  as  if  he  was  a  Frohman  star, 
and  it  was  lovely  to  hear  him. 

11  That'll  be  all  right,  too,"  says  I,  "  and 
think  of  the  high  class  audience  you're  goin'  to 
have.  That  ought  to  count  for  something." 

"  It  does,  indeed,"  says  Beno.  "  Anyway,  I 
will  make  the  sacrifice  this  once." 

Course,  all  I'd  worked  out  at  the  time  was  a 
bare  outline;  but  I  was  still  hammerin'  at  it 
when  I  hit  the  feathers  that  night,  and  in  the 
mornin'  the  whole  scheme  came  out  as  clear  as 
consomme. 

"  Well,"  says  Mr.  Eobert,  when  he  comes 
sailin'  in  about  nine-thirty,  "  been  taxing  that 
mighty  intellect  of  yours,  eh?  " 

"  For  a  little  thing  like  that?  "  says  L 
"  How  foolish!  Bring  on  your  Bertie  boy." 
Then  I  gives  him  a  diagram  of  my  plans. 

"  By  George!  "  says  he.  "I'm  inclined  to 
think  you've  hit  on  something,  after  all.  It's 
new,  anyway,  and  it  might  be  a  success. ' ' 

Was  it  ?  Say,  you  should  have  been  with  me 
behind  the  scenes,  peekin'  through  the  glass  of 
one  of  the  pantry  doors.  We  'd  sandwiched  the 
Brothers  Beno  in  between  three  reg'lar  waiters, 
and  drilled  'em  so  they  handled  the  canape  and 
oyster  course  without  makin'  a  break.  That 
was  to  throw  the  guests  off  their  guard,  and 


122  TRYING  OUT  TORCHY 

when  the  trio  cuts  loose  chuckin'  the  service 
plates  around  reckless,  tossin'  'em  across  the 
table  and  so  on,  there  was  some  squeals  of  sur- 
prise from  the  ladies.  They  squealed  some 
more  when  the  Benos  slid  in  twirlin'  plates  of 
soup,  and  by  the  time  they  opened  up  jugglin' 
the  glasses  and  silverware  we  had  'em  goin'. 

' '  Why,  Bertie !  ' :  exclaims  one  lady. 
' '  Wherever  did  you  find  such  clever  waiters  ?  ' ' 

Over  the  middle  of  the  table  was  what  looked 
like  a  big  chandelier  draped  in  buntin';  but  as 
soon  as  coffee  had  been  passed  around  Bertie 
pulls  a  string,  disclosin'  a  triple  trapeze,  and 
at  the  same  time  the  Brothers  Beno  lets  out  a 
whoop  in  chorus,  each  vaults  over  a  chair  back, 
and  the  next  minute  they're  swingin'  above  the 
heads  of  the  company,  sheddin'  their  waiters' 
uniforms  until  they  get  down  to  pink  tights  and 
trunks,  and  then  they  proceed  to  do  all  kinds  of 
dizzy  stunts  just  as  if  they  was  behind  the  foot- 
lights. 

Course,  it  wa'n't  any  center  ring  act  they  put 
over ;  but  the  surprise  of  seein'  'em  change  from 
plain  waiters  into  swingin'  bar  artists  was  what 
got  the  crowd.  They  won  more  encores  than 
they'd  had  for  many  a  season,  I  guess,  and 
Bertie  boy  was  patted  on  the  back  until  his 
shoulders  must  have  ached. 

Win  out?  Why,  it  was  a  scream!  Mr.  Rob- 
ert was  on  a  broad  grin,  Bertie  was  so  tickled 


A  BOOST  FOE  THE  BENOS        123 

he  stuttered,  and  the  Benos  went  back  to  their 
boardin'  house  steppin'  high  and  each  one 
clutchin'  a  twenty-dollar  gold  piece  so  hard  it's 
a  wonder  the  eagles  on  'em  wa'n't  black  in  the 
face.  As  for  me — well,  you  couldn't  exactly 
say  I  hated  myself. 

I  thought  I'd  done  a  good  turn  by  all  hands 
too,  until  I  strolls  down  to  the  Corrugated  next 
mornin'  and  finds  the  trio  lined  up  in  the  lower 
hall  waitin '  for  me.  Skimp  Farrell  tries  to  open 
the  proceedin's  gentle;  but  the  original  Beno 
pushes  him  back  and  grabs  me  by  the  collar. 

"  See  here,  you  young  thimblerigger !  "  says 
he.  "  What  d'ye  mean  by  making  monkeys  of 
us  like  this?  " 

"  Meaning  how?  "  I  gasps,  gazin'  from  one  to 
the  other. 

1 '  Look  at  this!"  growls  Beno,  shovin'  a 
mornin'  paper  under  my  nose. 

And,  sure  enough,  Bertie  boy  had  gone  and 
got  busy  with  the  press  agent  stuff.  There  it 
was,  a  whole  half -column  leadin'  the  society 
news,  tellin'  how  Mr.  Bertie  Billings  had  sprung 
a  most  delightful  novelty  at  the  younger  set's 
dinner  dance  by  introducin'  a  number  of  vaude- 
ville artists  disguised  as  waiters.  The  Brothers 
Beno  was  mentioned  by  name,  too. 

"  Well,  ain't  it  all  good  advertisin"?  "  says  I. 

"  Advertising!  "  snorts  Beno.  "  Here  you 
wreck  my  whole  professional  career,  and  then 


124  TRYING  OUT  TORCHY 

you  ask  that !  Young  man,  I  want  you  to  under- 
stand that  I've  been  on  the  boards  for  nearly 
fifteen  years,  and  that  in  all  that  period  this  is 
the  first  blemish  on  my  reputation  as  an  artist. 
Now  I  am  disgraced.  Appeared  as  a  waiter! 
That  ends  it  all,  that  does!  You — you  have 
broken  muh  heart !  ' ' 

At  that  he  lets  go  of  me,  pulls  out  a  handker- 
chief, and  begins  sobbin'.  Ever  seen  a  fat  man 
blubber?  Well,  it's  an  awful  sight.  I  wanted 
to  snicker,  and  at  the  same  time  I  felt  so  mean 
I'd  have  been  glad  to  had  someone  kick  me. 
Skimp  don't  say  much ;  but  he's  caught  the  panic 
from  Beno.  So  has  Lavine.  They  all  look 
mighty  solemn  and  accusin'. 

"  Gee!  I'm  sorry,"  says  I,  and  then  I  ex- 
plains how  I  didn't  dream  of  Bertie's  rushin* 
into  print  with  any  account  of  this  fool  stunt. 
Nothin'  I  can  say,  though,  makes  'em  feel  any 
better.  They  even  refuses  to  touch  the  fifty  I 
offers  to  hand  over,  and  fin'lly  leaves,  as  mourn- 
ful as  a  funeral  procession. 

When  I  sees  the  same  story  worked  up  elabo- 
rate in  all  the  evenin'  papers,  with  pictures  of 
Bertie  and  the  Brothers  Beno,  I  feels  more 
guilty  than  ever.  I  was  expectin'  next  a  bul- 
letin of  how  the  trio  had  been  found  in  their 
room  with  the  gas  turned  on,  or  an  account  of 
some  other  sad  end  that  they'd  sought  to  hide 
their  disgrace,  and  I  was  wonderin'  what  kind  of 


A  BOOST  FOE  THE  BENOS        125 

a  monument  the  fifty  would  buy  if  I  got  trade 
discount  on  it ;  when  Skimp  Farrell  blows  in,  all 
arrayed  in  a  new  silk  lid  and  a  new  black  frock 
coat. 

1 1  Ha !  The  sole  survivor !  ' '  says  I.  "Go 
on!  Call  me  assassin!  But  first  tell  me  how 
did  Beno  finish  himself  off?  " 

11  Finish!  "  says  Skimp.  "  Why,  he's  out  on 
Broadway  in  his  new  checked  suit  receiving  the 
congratulations  of  the  profession.  Haven't  you 
heard?  " 

"  Not  a  word,"  says  I.    "  What's  it  like?  " 

"  Well,"  says  Skimp,  thro  win'  out  his  chest 
important,  "  it  seems  that  our  merit  as  high 
class  entertainers  has  at  last  been  recog- 
nized. ' ' 

"  I  want  to  know !  "  says  I. 

"  We've  had  the  managers  after  us  ever  since 
noon,"  goes  on  Skimp.  "  Got  them  bidding 
against  each  other,  and  at  two  P.M.  we  signed 
up  for  two  thousand  a  week,  five  month'  con- 
tract. Got  a  real  playwright  building  a  sketch 
for  us, — society  scene,  people  at  dinner,  us  doing 
the  juggling  waiter  act,  you  know.  Yes,  Sir,  fif- 
teen people  in  the  company,  our  names  in 
colored  lights  over  the  door,  and  we  open  and 
close  full  stage." 

1 '  Well,  well !  ' '  says  I.  ' '  Fine  work !  But  by 
the  way,  anything  from  Beno  about  an  apol- 
ogy? " 


126  TKYING  OUT  TOECHY 

* '  Oh,  yes, ' '  says  Skimp.  ' '  He  wanted  me  to 
say  that  he  accepts  yours." 

"  He  does  which?  "  I  gasps  out. 

"  To  be  sure,"  says  Skimp,  "  he  felt  rather 
sore  this  morning — all  of  us  did — about  the 
notoriety;  but  he  says  we  can  live  it  down,  and 
that  he  bears  no  ill  will." 

11  Thanks,  Skimp,"  says  I,  grabbin'  his  mitt 
and  pressin'  it  grateful.  "  You  tell  Beno  for 
me  that  he 's  got  a  heart  like  a  prize  ox — and  a 
head  like  a  door-knob." 

What's  that  sayin'  about  castin'  your  bread 
on  the  waters  and  after  many  days  you  get  back 
a  pretzel ?  Oh,  well,  Bertie  thinks  I'm  a  wonder, 
anyway. 


CHAPTER  VIE! 

HELPING  OUT  AT  A  SPLICE  TEST 

OH,  I  don't  know!  Maybe  I  ain't  listed  reg'- 
lar  in  the  Percy-Claude  class;  but  now  and 
then  I  get  a  chance  to  walk  through  a  sidewalk 
canopy  the  long  way.  Yuh-huh !  Quite  so ! 

You  see,  we've  been  marryin'  Marjorie  off. 
And  hist!  Whether  you'd  dream  it  or  not,  it 
ain  't  been  any  little  half  holiday  chore,  such  as 
you'd  get  through  between  bites  of  a  sandwich. 
Not  at  all!  Why,  before  it  was  all  over  Old 
Hickory  has  a  disposition  on  him  like  a  row  of 
broken  bottles,  Mr.  Robert  has  developed  ridges 
between  his  eyebrows,  and  Piddie  is  on  the 
verge  of  nervous  prosperity. 

And  first  off  it  seemed  such  a  simple,  one-two- 
three  proposition ;  that  is,  it  did  after  Marjorie 
really  settled  down  to  Ferdinand.  Course,  we'd 
had  our  troubles  before  that.  Maybe  you  re- 
member her  Juliet  splurge,  when  she  wanted  to 
crowd  Marlowe  into  the  back  drop;  and  about 
that  Schutzenbund  Count  her  and  Miss  Vee  dis- 
covered abroad;  and  a  few  other  little  episodes 
I  may  have  mentioned. 

Not  that  I've  made  out  a  full  list.    Honest, 

127 


128  TRYING  OUT  TOECHY 

for  a  heavyweight  Venus,  Miss  Marjorie  in  her 
before-takin'  days  could  work  up  more  miscel- 
laneous tender  sentiment  than  any  of  these 
slim,  loppy  queens  I  ever  saw.  Havin'  been 
left  out  of  a  few  of  the  fam'ly  conferences,  I 
couldn't  just  state  how  many  Broadway  mati- 
'nee  heroes,  and  Eussian  violinists,  and  grand 
opera  tenors  she's  gone  mushy  on.  But  that 
was  her  specialty. 

So,  after  the  fam'ly  got  over  the  first  shock 
of  seem'  what  she'd  fin'lly  pasted  the  "  Ee- 
served  "  label  on,  they  seemed  to  feel  kind  of 
relieved.  For  Ferdy  ain't  just  what  you'd  de- 
scribe as  a  da  shin'  hero.  While  you  couldn't 
exactly  place  him  in  the  shrimp  class,  he's  some 
narrow-gauge  for  his  height,  wears  thick,  shell 
rimmed  glasses,  lisps  a  little  when  he  gets  ex- 
cited, and  is  sort  of  inoffensive  and  insignificant 
to  look  at — specially  when  he 's  eclipsed  by  Mar- 
jorie. Say,  he'll  never  be  sunstruck  so  long 
as  he  keeps  on  the  shady  side  of  her. 

But,  then,  they  say  some  of  these  cross  mated 
pairs  often  get  along  best,  and  from  all  I  hear 
Ferdy  is  a  nice,  quiet,  well-parlor-broken  young 
gent,  who  comes  from  a  good  fam'ly  and  is  due 
to  inherit  enough  American  Sugar  preferred 
and  U.  S.  Eubber  stocks  so  it  won't  be  a  case 
of  rustlin'  to  buy  all  them  extra  sized  things 
Marjorie '11  need  from  the  department  stores. 

No,  we  didn't  any  of  us  really  object  strong 


HELPING  OUT  AT  A  SPLICE  FEST     129V 

to  Ferdinand,  unless  it  was  Mr.  Piddie,  and  he 
seemed  to  take  it  to  heart  that  she  hadn't  picked 
out  an  Earl  or  a  Crown  Prince  at  least.  Honest, 
to  hear  him  go  on  to  some  of  the  lady  typists, 
you'd  thought  he  was  her  pet  uncle,  or  some- 
thing. 

As  for  Old  Hickory  and  Mr.  Eobert,  for 
awhile  there  they  seemed  real  contented  with 
the  prospects. 

"  Yes,  nothing  but  a  quiet  little  home  wed- 
ding," I  hears  Mr.  Eobert  tellin'  one  of  his 
chums.  "  Ferdy's  idea,  you  know;  and  it  suits 
the  governor  to  a  T." 

All  of  which  don't  get  me  int 'rested,  one  way 
or  another.  Course,  I'd  had  a  chance  to  get 
more  or  less  well  acquainted  with  Marjorie; 
but  it  hadn't  got  to  the  point  where  I  was  wor- 
ried as  to  how  she  got  married,  or  where.  Never 
havin'  been  in  one  of  these  home  splicin'  bees, 
maybe  my  ideas  was  a  little  vague  on  the  sub- 
ject. I  had  sort  of  a  dim  picture  of  Ferdy  wan- 
derm'  in  casual  with  the  minister  some  after- 
noon about  teatime,  findin'  Marjorie  there,  and 
havin'  the  event  run  off  without  any  more 
fuss. 

Not  until  the  private  house  wire  began  to 
warm  up  did  I  change  my  views.  Seems  there 
was  a  few  odd  details  to  be  attended  to,  and,  as 
Mr.  Kobert  happened  to  be  off  for  a  few  days 
on  a  Western  trip,  it  was  Old  Hickory  that  was 


130  TRYING  OUT  TORCH! 

called  on  to  stand  by.  I  was  waitin'  orders  in 
his  office  one  mornin'  when  the  first  cylinder 
head  blew  out.  It  was  one  of  his  rush  days, 
when  he  had  three  big  deals  hangin'  fire,  a  pud- 
dlers'  strike  on  tap  out  at  some  of  the  works, 
and  two  fussy  Wall  Street  men  waitin'  for  him 
in  the  directors'  room,  and  it  wa'n't  just  what 
you'd  call  the  psychic  moment  to  ring  him  up 
from  home. 

"Hey?"  he  growls  into  the  transmitter. 
"  Have  I  seen  the  crater!  What  crater!  Oh, 
caterer!  Well,  why  the  ding  guzzled  dollops 
didn't  you  say  so  at  first!  Say,  who's  this  talk- 
ing, anyway!  Oh,  Hawkins,  is  it!  Well,  see 
here,  Hawkins,  haven't  you  better  sense  than  to 
bother  me  with  fool  questions  at  this  time  of 
the—  Eh?  Well,  Mrs.  Ellins  should  know  bet- 
ter, that's  all.  You  tell  her  I  haven't  seen  any 
blasted  caterer ;  but  that  if  it  is  absolutely  neces- 
sary I  suppose  I  can.  What  else!  Florist? 
Yes,  yes;  orange  blossoms,  and  a  shower  bou- 
quet for  Marjorie,  and  bouquets  for  the  brides- 
maids, and —  Say,  what  do  they  think  I  am,  up 
there,  a  domestic  utility  bureau  ?  No,  I  tell  you ! 
Haven't  time  to  listen  to  any  more.  Not  a  min- 
ute! "  and  with  that  he  bangs  up  the  receiver 
and  whirls  around  just  quick  enough  to  catch 
me  with  a  grin  on  my  face. 

"Huh!"  he  snorts.  "Joke,  is  it!  Well, 
since  you  think  so,  suppose  you  get  closer  to  it. 


HELPING  OUT  AT  A  SPLICE  FEST     131 

You  take  a  pad  and  pencil,  trot  up  to  the  house, 
and  get  a  complete  list  of  all  their  wants  and 
wishes.  Then  I'll  know  what  I  have  before  me. 
I'll  give  you  just  an  hour  to  hand  in  a  full 
report." 

That  was  only  the  beginnin'  of  my  chasm' 
back  and  forth  on  this  simple  home  weddin' 
business;  and,  say,  I  hadn't  been  at  it  long  be- 
fore I  revises  my  picture.  First  off,  it  was 
harder  to  catch  Mrs.  Ellins  and  Marjorie  than 
as  if  they'd  been  railroad  presidents.  When 
they  wasn't  out  shoppin',  or  at  the  tailor's,  or 
havin'  fittin's  at  Madame  Du  Monte 's,  they  was 
tryin'  on  hats  somewhere,  or  else  upstairs  boss- 
in'  three  or  four  dressmakers.  Also  the  front 
hall  and  the  drawin'  rooms  was  bein'  done  over; 
so  everything  was  upset  downstairs.  Then  gen- 
'rally  there  was  a  decorator  prowlin'  around, 
sketchin'  out  plans  for  floral  arches  and  palm 
screens;  or  the  caterer  plottin'  where  he  could 
stow  his  waiters,  and  figurin'  private  whether 
or  not  he'd  have  the  nerve  to  charge  three 
plunks  a  head  for  servin'  a  couple  of  hundred 
people  with  a  chicken  sandwich,  a  biscuit  Tor- 
toni,  and  a  glass  of  fizz.  Then  there  was  other 
people  to  be  engaged, — the  musicians,  and  the 
carriage  caller,  and  the  extra  cloakroom  maids, 
and  the  outside  cops,  and  the  plain  clothes  men 
to  watch  the  presents,  and —  Well,  say,  stagin' 
a  musical  comedy  or  launchin'  a  battleship  can't 


132  TRYING  OUT  TORCHY 

have  much  on  one  of  these  simple  home  wed- 
din's,  Fifth-ave.  style. 

Mr.  Robert  gets  back  right  in  the  midst  of  it, 
and  is  rung  into  engineerin'  the  bridesmaids' 
luncheon  at  Sherry's,  and  soothin'  down 
Ferdy's  nerves  between  times.  He  was  gettin' 
the  fidgets,  Ferdy  was,  as  his  time  got  shorter 
and  he  began  gettin'  glimpses  of  what  he  had 
to  go  through.  The  strain  was  even  tellin'  on 
Marjorie,  and,  while  she  could  afford  to  lose 
fifty  or  sixty  pounds,  it  wa'n't  goin'  to  help  the 
fit  of  her  white  satin  any. 

But  me — say,  I  was  standin'  it  fine.  Course, 
it  was  some  annoyin'  to  be  called  away  from 
business  so  much;  but  somehow  them  last  few 
days  I  didn't  mind  a  bit  bein'  sent  up  to  the 
house  on  fool  errands.  You  see — well,  maybe 
I  hadn't  mentioned  who  was  to  be  maid  of 
honor.  Uh-huh!  And  of  course,  when  things 
got  real  warm,  the  only  sensible  thing  for  Miss 
Vee  to  do  was  to  move  right  down  to  the  scene 
of  action  and  go  into  camp.  So  me  and  Vee — 
why,  we  chased  around  some  together  after  this 
and  that,  and  exchanged  a  little  josh  on  the  fly. 
All  of  which  didn't  bore  me,  exactly. 

In  fact,  I  was  enjoyin'  this  weddin'  business 
quite  some;  that  is,  I  was  up  to  the  time  when 
Cousin  Teddy  appeared.  He  was  Marjorie 's 
cousin,  you  know,  and  the  day  before  the  big 
splash  he  comes  down  from  Yale  on  a  special 


HELPING  OUT  AT  A  SPLICE  FEST     133 

leave.  How  they  could  spare  him  from  the 
freshman  class  I  can't  imagine.  Must  have 
seemed  quiet  and  dull  up  at  New  Haven  after 
he  left;  for  Cousin  Teddy  was  some  big  whizzu 
He  all  but  admitted  it  himself,  and  there  was 
plenty  of  others  who  encouraged  the  idea, — 
Marjorie  for  one,  Vee  for  another,  and  even 
Old  Hickory  seemed  pleased  to  see  him — at 
first. 

It  was  only  on  the  afternoon  of  the  rehearsal 
that  I  discovers  him.  I'd  been  sent  up  by  Mr. 
Eobert  to  sort  of  help  herd  the  boy  choir  into 
place  in  one  corner  of  the  lib'ry  and  then  stand 
where  I  could  see  the  stairs  and  pass  along  the 
signal  for  them  to  cut  loose  singin'  the  weddin' 
march. 

"  Oh,  Teddy's  attending  to  that,"  says  Vee. 
"  See,  he  has  them  all  arranged." 

That's  right.  Teddy  was  on  the  job.  One  of 
these  openfaced  youths  with  a  bristly  pompa- 
dour, protrudin'  front  teeth,  and  bulgy  eyes, 
Theodore  was;  but  he  didn't  allow  any  little 
blemishes  like  that  to  keep  him  in  the  background. 
Teddy  had  pushin'  ways  and  a  voice  like  a 
train  announcer.  Also  you  could  tell  at  a  glance 
that  he  was  the  sort  of  college  cutup  that  col- 
lects barbers'  poles  and  Chinese  laundry  signs, 
and  paints  his  class  number  on  statues  and  pub- 
lic buildin's. 

"  Now  you  kiddos,"  he  was  shoutin'  to  the 


134  TRYING  OUT  TORCHY 

choir  boys,  "  get  a  little  more  teamwork  into 
this  mass  play!  You  tumbled  in  here  last  time 
like  a  bunch  of  fans  boarding  a  trolley  car. 
Try  it  again  and  see  if  you  can  keep  from  step- 
ping on  your  own  feet.  Oh,  rotten !  Once  more, 
my  young  sports.  Steady  on  the  left  wing, 
steady!  There,  that's  some  better.  I'll  have 
you  fit  for  a  George  Cohan  company  before 
we're  through.  Eh,  what  I  " 

"  Isn't  he  killing?  "  observes  Vee. 

"  Almost  that,"  says  I. 

"  Pooh!  "  says  Vee.  "  You  should  have  been 
here  at  luncheon.  He  just  kept  us  in  roars. 
What  do  you  think  he  did?  Pinned  a  napkin  to 
the  tail  of  the  butler's  coat !  He's  just  loads  of 
fun,  Teddy  is." 

About  then  he  spots  me  and  comes  over. 
11  Oh,  I  say,  Vee,"  says  he,  "  who's  your  young 
friend  with  the  low  comedy  hair?  Isn't  a  stray 
from  my  chorus,  is  he?  " 

"  This  is  Torchy,"  says  she.  "  He's  from 
Mr.  Ellins's  office,  you  know." 

"  Ah  I  One  of  the  Corrugated  slaves,  eh?  " 
says  Teddy,  lookin'  me  over  careless.  It  was 
the  sniff  at  the  end  that  made  me  grind  my 
teeth;  for  by  the  way  young  Mr.  Theodore 
swings  on  his  heel  and  strolls  off  it's  clear  he 
ain't  dyin'  to  get  acquainted  with  any  of  Uncle's 
office  staff. 

"  What  cute  manners!  "  says  I  to  Vee. 


HELPING  OUT  AT  A  SPLICE  FEST     135 

"  Oh,  you  mustn't  mind  Teddy,"  says  she. 
"  One  never  knows  what  he's  going  to  do  next. 
But  he  certainly  has  livened  things  up  since  he 
came. ' ' 

And,  at  that,  it  seems,  he  hadn't  more'n  be- 
gun to  shake  out  his  whole  bag  of  tricks.  Not 
bein'  on  the  spot,  I  missed  a  few  of  his  cunnin7 
performances  durin'  the  rest  of  the  afternoon 
and  evenin';  but  when  I  shows  up  at  the  house 
next  day,  half  an  hour  or  so  before  the  grand 
affair,  I  soon  knew  he'd  been  busy.  Only  a 
few  of  the  early  comers  were  driftin'  in;  so  I 
wanders  back  into  the  lib'ry,  where  I  finds  Mr.- 
Robert  and  Old  Hickory  growlin'  and  lookin' 
sour. 

"  Dash  it  all!"  Mr.  Ellins  was  sayin'. 
"  Can't  anyone  squelch  that  young  whelp?  " 

"  Perhaps,  if  we  really  knew  what  he  was  up 
to,"  says  Mr.  Robert.  "  But  Marjorie  may 
have  only  imagined  it,  and  Ferdy  is  so  rattled 
he  hardly  knows  what  he's  saying,  you  know. 
Ah,  here's  Torchy!  Well,  Son,  you're  in  de- 
mand. A  certain  young  lady  has  been  anxiously 
asking  for  you." 

"  Gee!  "  says  I,  grinnin*.  "  That's  always 
the  way." 

A  minute  more  and  Vee  leans  over  the  bams^ 
ter  and  gives  me  the  hurry-up  signal;  so  I  fol- 
lows upstairs  to  the  little  alcove  on  the  top 
landin'.  Gosh!  but  in  that  pink  dress  and  the 


136  TRYING  OUT  TORCHY 

lace  cap  she  was  lookin'  some  stunnin',  too! 
Them  big  eyes  of  hers,  though,  was  serious. 

"  What's  wrong?  "  says  I.  "  Ferdy  ain't 
swallowed  the  ring,  has  he?  " 

11  It's  Theodore,"  says  she. 

*•  Don't  tell  me  he's  run  out  of  comic 
stunts !  ' '  says  I. 

"  If  only  he  had!  "  says  she.  "  But  there's 
such  a  thing  as  knowing  when  to  stop.  Appar- 
ently Theodore  doesn't." 

11  Not  truly?  "  says  I.    "  What's  his  latest?  " 

"  That's  the  trouble,"  says  Vee.  "  We  don't 
know  what  it  is.  He  has  four  or  five  other  fel- 
lows with  him,  and  they're  up  to  something  hor- 
rid. They've  stolen  Ferdy 's  suitcase,  for  one 
thing;  and  we  suspect  they've  been  putting 
something  in  the  punch;  and  now  they're  hid- 
ing, planning  goodness  knows  what." 

"  Yes,  you  said  he  was  loads  of  fun," 
says  I. 

"  But  he's  carrying  this  altogether  too  far," 
says  Vee,  her  eyes  flashin'  sparks.  "  Ferdi- 
nand is  in  no  state  to  stand  stupid  practical 
jokes;  and  as  for  Marjorie,  she  declares  she 
will  never  have  the  courage  to  go  downstairs, 
never.  She  says  she  knows  Teddy  is  going  to 
spring  something  awful.  And  she  wants  to 
know,  Torchy,  if  you  can't  find  out  what  it  is 
and  stop  him." 

"  Me?  "  says  I.    "  Flag  Cousin  Teddy,  the 


HELPING  OUT  AT  A  SPLICE  FEST 

pet  of  the  fam'ly,  in  his  innocent  little  pranks? 
Why,  I  ain't  got  any  license  to — " 

"  Yes,  you  have,"  insists  Vee.  "  Mrs.  Ellins 
is  disgusted  with  him,  and  Mr.  Ellins  is  swear- 
ing mad ;  but  no  one  seems  to  know  what  to  do. 
Oh,  can't  you  help  some  way?  " 

"  I  can  make  a  stab  at  it,  Vee,"  says  I;  "  but 
it's  kind  of  short  notice  to  get  in  much  action. 
Now,  if  I  could  have  the  run  of  the  house 
for—" 

"  Go  anywhere,  do  anything  you  like,"  says 
she.  "  Mrs.  Ellins  says  so." 

"  Then  I'm  on  the  trail,"  says  I. 

Well,  I  was  willin'  enough,  so  far  as  that 
went;  but  I  hadn't  any  more  idea  of  how  to 
tackle  the  proposition  than  a  pup  would  of 
climbin'  a  ladder.  I  knew  Teddy  and  his  crowd 
wouldn't  be  hidin'  downstairs,  though,  and  once 
I'd  seen  the  billard  room  on  the  top  floor;  so 
up  I  goes  on  a  chance.  Wonderful  dome  work  I 
I  finds  the  door  closed,  with  a  sentry  on  the  out- 
side, and  from  the  sounds  that  floats  out  I  takes 
it  that  Teddy  is  puttin'  his  kids  through  some 
more  practice  drill. 

"  Most  ready  for  the  grand  entrance?  "  says 
I  to  the  sentry,  a  long  legged,  pimply  faced 
youth  in  his  first  frock  coat. 

"  Shouldn't  wonder,"  says  he,  lookin'  me 
over  suspicious.  "  Are  you — " 

"  Just  strolled  up  to  see  how  Teddy  was  com- 


138  TRYING  OUT  TORCHY 

in'  on,"  says  I.  "  Goin'  to  spring  that  new 
dope,  is  he!  " 

And  Longlegs,  lie  fell  for  it  first  rattle  out 
of  the  box.  '  *  Listen !  ' '  says  he,  grinnin '  wide. 

Well,  I  stepped  up  and  stretched  my  ear. 
You  know  how  that  Meddlesome  Weddin'  March 
goes — Tump-tump-te-dee  ?  The  boy  choir  was 
singin'  the  tune  all  right;  but  the  words  was 
new  to  me.  I  didn't  get  'em  all;  but  the  be- 
ginnin'  was  like  this: 

Here  comes  the  bride, 
Get  onto  her  stride, 
See  how  she  wabbles 
From  side  to  side. 

"  How  about  it?  "  says  the  sentry.  "  Won't 
that  score  with  the  audience?  Cost  us  a  half 
for  each  kid;  but  it's  going  to  be  a  hummer, 
eh?  " 

"  Great!  "  says  I.    "  Teddy's  a  wonder!  " 

"  Wait  until  you  see  the  groom's  suitcase," 
says  he.  "  We've  painted  red  hearts  all  over 
it,  and  stuffed  it  full  of  old  clothes.  Hid  his 
silk  pajamas  and  all  that  truck  under  that  big 
seat  in  the  lower  hall,  you  know.  Well,  say," 
and  he  winks  facetious,  "  but  won't  Ferdy  be 
wild  when  he  gets  to  his  hotel  and  opens  up 
that  collection?  " 

"  Haw,  haw!  "  says  I,  givin'  a  good  imitation 
of  uncontrolled  mirth  and  slappin'  Percy  the 


Sieve  on  the  shoulder.  "  But  how  about  the 
trunk?  " 

'  *  You  ought  to  see  it !  "  says  he.  ' '  Bound  up 
with  yards  and  yards  of  white  ribbon,  and 
'  Lovey  Dovey's  Duds  '  painted  in  big  letters 
on  each  end.  We  pinched  that  early  this  morn- 
ing and  hid  it  in  the  areaway.  Got  a  barrel  of 
confetti  balls,  a  bushel  of  rice,  and  about  forty 
old  shoes  stowed  away  there,  too.  You  know 
Teddy's  scheme  is  to  have  us  all  line  up  in  a 
double  row  and  just  pelt  the  bridal  couple  good 
and  proper  as  they  scoot  for  the  carriage." 

"  With  shoes  and  all?  "  says  I. 

"  Sure  thing!  "  says  he.  "  Soak  'em,  that's 
the  stuff.  Make  'em  run  the  gantlet.  Trust 
Teddy!  He's  been  to  dozens  of  weddings,  and 
he  knows  how  to  work  it." 

"  He  must  be  mighty  popular,"  says  I. 
"  How  about  the  bride's  suitcase,  though?  " 

"  Can't  get  it,"  says  the  sentry.  "  And  we 
wanted  to  do  a  few  things  to  that,  too." 

"  Say,"  says  I,  gettin*  a  sudden  thought, 
"  maybe  I  can  cop  it  for  you." 

"Could  you?"  says  he.  "Wow!  That 
would  be  rich.  It's  the  only  thing  Teddy's 
missed  out  on,  and  he — " 

' '  Here !  "  I  breaks  in.  ' '  Soon  as  you  fellows 
are  through  up  here,  meet  me  at  the  foot  of  the 
back  stairs,  first  floor.  I'll  get  it  or  bust  some- 
thing." 


140  TRYING  OUT  TORCHY 

"  Fine  business!  "  says  lie.  "  They're  most 
done  now.*' 

"  Then  I've  got  to  work  quick,"  says  L 
"  Call  it  ten  minutes — foot  of  back  stairs,  re- 
member! "  and  with  that  I  rushes  off. 

And  I  sure  did  hustle  some.  First  I  puts 
Mr.  Robert  onto  the  job  of  rescuin'  Ferdy's 
honeymoon  outfit  and  packin'  it  into  a  kitbag. 
Then  I  tips  off  Old  Hickory  about  the  new  ver- 
sion of  the  Weddin'  March  that  was  to  be  sung, 
and  advises  him  what  to  do. 

"  Will  I?  "  says  he.  "  I'll  scare  the  young 
scoundrels  stiff!  " 

I  guess  he  did,  too;  but  I  couldn't  stop  to 
listen.  I  had  to  have  another  word  with  Vee, 
and  in  two  minutes  more  she's  hustled  out  an- 
other suitcase  of  Marjorie's  and  I'm  gallopin' 
down  into  the  basement  with  it.  Three  minutes 
of  explorin'  was  all  I  had;  but  it  was  enough, 
and  by  the  time  I'm  back  to  where  I  was  to  meet 
the  cutup  bunch  I  had  the  campaign  all  laid  out. 

"  Got  it,  have  you?  "  sings  out  Teddy. 

"  That's  what,"  says  I. 

"  Good  work!  "  says  he.    "  Where?  " 

"  Down  here,"  says  I.    li  I'll  show  you." 

"  Come  on,  Fellows !  "  orders  Teddy.  "  Hey, 
Flicky,  bring  the  red  paint.  Quick,  now!  ': 

And  they  follows  like  I  had  'em  on  a  rope; 
down  through  the  laundry  and  out  front,  where 
I  grabs  a  heavy  door  and  swings  it  open. 


HELPING  OUT  AT  A  SPLICE  FEST     141 

"  You'll  find  it  right  in  there  on  the  coal," 
says  I.  * '  And  have  a  good  time  with  it,  Boys !  " 
with  which  I  gives  the  last  one  a  shove,  bangs 
the  door  shut  after  him,  and  shoots  home  the 
bolt. 

It  might  have  been  pleasant  to  have  stopped 
a  minute  and  exchanged  a  little  repartee  with 
Teddy  and  his  chums  through  the  planks;  but 
I  didn't  have  time  just  then.  I  had  to  beat  it 
back  up  to  the  second  floor  and  send  soothin' 
messages  to  Marjorie  and  Ferdinand. 

"  Clear  track!  "  I  announces  to  Vee.  "  You 
tell  'em  they  can  blaze  away  now,  without  bein' 
afraid  of  any  comic  horseplay  durin'  the  cere- 
mony, or  of  bein'  mobbed  afterwards." 

"  You  dear!  "  says  Vee.    "  But  Teddy?  " 

11  Corked  up  tighter 'n  a  bottle  of  olives," 
says  I.  "  You'd  best  get  'em  under  way, 
though,  while  the  goin's  good." 

And,  say,  I  expect  for  the  kind,  it  was  a  per- 
fectly good  home  weddin'.  Never  saw  Marjorie 
look  more  like  a  captive  balloon,  though,  than 
she  did  in  that  stiff  white  bridal  gown  and  veil. 
You'd  thought,  too,  when  Old  Hickory  comes 
paddin'  in  with  her  on  his  arm,  that  he'd  just 
been  sentenced  for  life.  Some  of  the  brides- 
maids was  queens,  all  right ;  but  they  all  looked 
white  and  scared  as  they  parades  down  tryin'  to 
keep  step  to  the  march  that  was  bein'  piped  out 
weak  and  faint  by  that  gang  of  kids. 


142  TRYING  OUT  TOECHY 

Honest,  the  only  real  live  wire  in  the  proces- 
sion was  Vee,  and  she  even  has  the  cheek  to  pass 
me  the  wink  as  she  catches  my  eye.  Bein'  on 
the  outside  edge  of  the  crowd,  I  could  only  get 
a  glimpse  of  the  group  under  the  daisy  bell,  and 
hear  the  minister  mumblin'  over  the  service. 
All  I  got  clear  was  when  Ferdy  is  asked  if  he'H 
take  Marjorie,  to  have  and  to  hold,  and  that 
near  finishes  me.  If  he  ever  tries  to  hold  her,  all 
that'll  be  left  of  him '11  be  a  smear  on  the  up- 
holstry. 

But  it  didn't  take  long  to  tie  the  knot,  once 
they  got  started,  and  the  next  thing  I  knew  it 
was  all  over,  and  the  bridesmaids  were  scram- 
blin'  for  the  bouquet,  and  Marjorie  was  bein' 
hustled  upstairs  to  get  into  her  travelin'  clothes. 
Then  came  the  waiters  elbowin'  in  between  the 
guests  with  the  fancy  food,  and  there's  a  jam 
forms  in  the  dinin'  room  where  the  champagne 
was  bein'  passed  out.  Ain't  they  lovely  af- 
fairs, these  weddin's? 

I  was  crowded  into  a  corner  with  both  hands 
full  of  stuff  I'd  smitched  as  the  trays  went 
past,  and  I  was  tryin'  to  put  it  away  polite  with 
my  arms  pinned  fast  on  both  sides  and  a  lady's 
hat  trimmin'  ticklin'  my  right  ear,  when  all  of 
a  sudden  there's  a  shout  of,  "  Here  they 
come !  ' '  and  down  the  front  stairs  appears  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Ferdy. 

Well,  it  was  bad  enough,  just  all  them  people 


HELPING  OUT  AT  A  SPLICE  FEST     143 

starin'  and  shoutin'  things  at  'em,  without  the 
joyous  little  roughhouse  frills  Teddy  and  his 
bunch  had  planned.  But  I  couldn't  be  heartless 
enough  to  have  'em  miss  the  fun  altogether. 
I  dashes  down  and  out  into  the  area,  where  I'd 
noticed  a  manhole  cover  that  I  guessed  must 
open  into  the  coalbins.  Sure  enough,  it  did, 
and  as  I  lifts  it  off  I  could  see  all  the  young 
sports  gatherin'  expectant  underneath. 

"  Hey,  Fellers,"  I  calls,  "  here  goes  the 
bridal  couple  and  you're  forgettin'  the  rice. 
How  thoughtless!  Here  it  is!  "  and  I  tips  the 
whole  basketful  down  on  'em.  ' '  Shoes  next !  ' ' 
I  goes  on,  firin'  down  odd  ones  as  hard  as  I 
could  slam  'em.  "  Hi,  hi !  Let's  enjoy  ourselves. 
,Who  cares  who  gets  hit  at  a  weddin'?  And  if 
you  can't  soak  the  bride  and  groom  the  way  they 
deserve — why,  you  can  soak  each  other.  Go  to 
it!" 

Yes,  I  expect  Teddy  and  his  chums  were  some 
peeved,  and  I  hear  they  raised  an  awful  howl 
about  it  to  Mr.  Ellins.  But  accordin'  to  Vee  a]! 
he  did  was  grin  and  advise  'em  to  wash  up. 

"  And  Marjorie,"  Vee  goes  on,  "  was  so 
grateful  she  said  she  wished  she  could  hug  you. 
She  wanted  me  to — " 

' '  Then  go  on, ' '  says  I.  .' '  Deliver  the  goods. ' ' 

"  Silly!  "  says  Vee,  pinkin'  up.  "101  do 
nothing  of  the  sort." 

And  next  mornin'  Piddie,  who'd  been  left 


144  TRYING  OUT  TORCHY 

holdin'  down  the  lid  at  the  shop,  wants  to  know 
all  about  it.  "I  suppose  for  a  home  wedding," 
says  he,  "  it  was  rather  a  grand  affair?  ' 

"  Oh,  sure!  "  says  I.  "  When  it  wa'n't  as 
solemn  as  an  inquest,  it  was  as  cheerful  and 
lively  as  a  Sheriff's  auction  sale  with  free  lunch 
on  the  side.  But  none  in  mine,  Piddie!  Elopin' 
looks  good  to  me." 


CHAPTER  IX 

GETTING  FROM  UNDER 

You  know  that  when  it  comes  to  gettin*  in 
bad  with  the  people  higher  up,  I  ain't  any  im- 
mune. Why,  before  I  struck  the  Corrugated, 
it  was  a  case  of  havin'  the  ozone  pass  issued 
to  me  about  once  in  so  often,  or  I'd  begin  to 
feel  the  moss  growin'  on  my  back. 

Maybe  you  wouldn't  guess  it,  but  gen 'rally 
the  charges  related  how  I'd  been  fresh  with 
somebody  or  other.  Uh-huh.  Folks  get  queer 
notions,  don't  they?  My  rule,  though,  when  the 
big  wheeze  got  that  freak  idea  froze  in  his  nut, 
was  not  to  make  any  alibi  play,  but  just  look 
haughty  and  resign.  I'll  admit  there's  been 
times  when  it  was  done  on  the  jump;  but  I  al- 
ways managed  to  file  it  some  way  or  other,  even 
if  I  had  to  send  a  postcard  after  I'd  dodged 
the  boot. 

More'n  that,  too,  I  never  went  into  mournin' 
over  a  lost  job,  or  missed  out  on  any  slumber 
wonderin'  if  it  could  have  been  my  fault,  after 
all.  But,  say,  it's  a  long  street  that  don't  end 
in  the  plowed  field  somewhere.  And  I  know 
now  what  it  is  to  have  Mr.  R.  E.  Morse  walk  in 

145 


146  TRYING  OUT  TORCHY 

and  hang  up  his  hat.  Yep!  'I've  had  'em  all 
lookin'  slant  eyed  at  me,  from  Piddie  up  to  Old 
Hickory  Ellins;  and  I've  been  takin'  it  with  my 
chin  down,  feelin'  about  as  chesty  as  a  push- 
cart peddler  bein'  chased  off  the  corner  by  a  cop. 

You  see,  it  wa'n't  just  one  item:  it  was  the 
way  things  pyramided.  For  instance,  gettin' 
Piddie  wrathy  over  a  little  jo  shin'  about  his 
new  fad  of  wearin'  a  handkerchief  up  his  cuff — 
why,  that's  my  reg'lar  way  of  beginnin'  the 
day.  How  should  I  guess  it  was  goin '  to  give  all 
the  typists  the  giggles?  But  Piddie  seemed  to 
take  it  harder 'n  usual,  and  the  way  he  glares 
at  me  was  almost  an  assault  and  battery. 

Then  on  top  of  that  comes  this  report  from 
some  fussy  Gladys-Maud  over  at  Madison 
Square  Exchange,  sayin'  how  a  certain  party 
in  our  office  had  been  impudent  over  the  wire; 
and  of  course  Piddie  ain't  losin'  a  trick.  He 
trots  it  right  in  to  the  main  stem  and  whirls  the 
arrow  around  until  it  points  to  me. 

"  Well?  "  grunts  Old  Hickory  when  I  an- 
swers the  buzzer.  "  Couldn't  have  been  you, 
I  presume?  ' 

"  Ah,  maybe  I  did  shove  over  a  little  hot  air 
when  she  was  slow  gettin'  a  number,"  says  I; 
"  but  it  wa'n't  any — " 

"  Precisely  what  did  you  say  to  the  opera- 
tor? "  demands  Mr.  Ellins. 

"Why,"  says  I,  "  I  only  suggests  that  if 


GETTING  FROM  UNDER  147 

she's  through  pattin'  her  ear  buns  into  place 
she  might  stick  her  gum  back  on  the  switch- 
board and  get  busy  with  double  five  0  three  hun- 
dred Beekman,  that's  all." 

"  Really?  "  says  Old  Hickory,  smilin'  as 
humorous  as  a  crack  in  a  brick  wall.  "  Quite 
civil — for  you.  Well,  I'll  write  an  apology  to 
the  manager,  and  we  will  trust  that  next  time 
it  won't  come  to  a  question  of  which  we  can  best 
do  without,  our  telephone  service,  or  yours. 
That  will  do." 

An  hour  later,  though,  I  was  as  chirky  as 
ever,  havin'  shunted  a  charity  collector,  three 
book  agents,  and  a  nutty  inventor  with  a  scheme 
for  makin'  hollow  steel  rails  that  could  be  used 
for  pipin'  natural  gas  from  the  oil  fields  to 
Broadway.  I'd  shunted  'em  good  and  hard  too, 
and  was  workin'  up  somethin'  new  to  spring  on 
Piddie,  when  all  of  a  sudden  I  gets  wise  to  the 
fact  that  someone  on  the  cold  side  of  the  brass 
rail  is  coughin'  sort  of  apologizing  and  I  throws 
a  casual  glance  over  my  shoulder  to  see  who's 
the  next  victim. 

And  what  do  you  guess?  A  slit-eye — one  of 
these  real  Jappy  little  Japs ;  all  got  up  in  a  one- 
button,  braid  bound,  1912  model  cutaway  and  a 
boy  sized  silk  lid,  lookin'  as  bright  and  shiny 
as  a  new  kitchen  range,  and  wearin'  one  of 
them  creepy,  Billiken  brand  smiles  on  his  ugly 
little  mug. 


148  TRYING  OUT  TOECHY 

"  If  you  please,"  he  begins,  "  I  should — " 

But  I  wa'n't  fallin'  for  flossy  garments  that 
day.  "  Back  to  the  bamboos!  "  says  I.  "  We 
aint  buyin'  any  job  lot  curios,  nor  givin'  out 
orders  for  cherry  blossom  decorations,  nor  any- 
thing like  that. " 

"  Ah,  thank  you,"  says  he,  still  keepin'  the 
smile  on  duty,  "  but  I  should  like  to — " 

11  Oh,  sure  you  would!  "  says  I.  "  But  we 
ain't  strong  for  Jap  valets,  or  schoolboy  cooks; 
so  why  take  up  my  valuable  time?  Forget  Port 
Arthur  for  a  minute  and  sound  the  retreat  be- 
fore I  let  you  through  the  trap  door." 

Does  that  jar  him?  Never  a  jar!  He  don't 
even  blink.  He  just  keeps  on  grinnin'  amiable 
and  fishes  out  a  card.  "  Please  to  hand  to  Mr. 
Robert  Ellins,"  says  he,  passin'  it  over. 

"  What's  this?  "  says  I,  studyin'  it  out. 
"  Nikki  Taga — Tagasaki?  Say,  that  sounds 
like  a  solo  on  a  snare  drum.  And  you  want  to 
see  Mr.  Robert,  do  you?  ' 

He  bows  polite  and  continues  the  ivory  dis- 
play. 

11  Now,  ain't  that  distressing  '  says  I. 
"  You  hadn't  heard,  then,  how  Mr.  Robert's 
just  started  for  Panama  to  get  the  contract 
for  fittin'  up  the  canal  with  Yale  locks?  ' 

"  I  was  informed  below,"  says  the  Jap, 
"  that  Mr.  Robert  was  in  his  office." 

"  Well,  well!  "  says  I.    "  How  them  fresh 


GETTING  FROM  UNDER  149 

elevator  starters  do  run  on!  But  suppose  he 
is,  Nikkif  About  how  many  chances  in  a  hun- 
dred do  you  expect  you  stand  of  bein'  let  in? 
Say,  do  you  stick  out  for  having  this  pre- 
sented? " 

He  does;  also  he  still  seems  good  natured 
about  it. 

' '  All  right, ' '  says  I.  ' '  You  camp  down  there 
on  the  leather  bench,  and  as  soon  as  he  gets 
through  with  Mr.  Morgan  and  Willie  Taft  and 
the  German  Ambassador  I'll  slip  it  on  his  desk. 
Be  ready  for  a  quick  getaway,  though,  in  case 
the  sight  of  you  should  get  on  his  nerves.  He 
ain't  any  Peace  Congress,  you  know;  specially 
on  his  busy  days." 

I  must  say,  though,  that  they  stand  the  gaff 
well,  them  banzai  gents.  Nikki  bows  as  hum- 
ble and  grateful  as  if  I'd  handed  him  the  keys 
to  the  safety  deposit  vaults,  plants  himself  on 
the  settee  with  his  silk  helmet  balanced  careful 
on  his  knees,  and  begins  his  wait  patient  and 
cheerful,  his  little  black  eyes  dartin'  here  and 
there  over  the  front  office. 

Course,  if  he  was  willin'  to  do  the  patient 
; sitter  stunt,  I  was  willin'  to  let  him.  He'd  been 
there  more'n  half  an  hour,  maybe,  when  Mr. 
Robert  strolls  out  of  his  private  office  lookin' 
for  Piddie  or  someone.  At  that  I  steps  over 
and  gives  him  the  tip. 

"  Look  what's  got  the  nerve  to  call  for  a 


150  TRYING  OUT  TORCHY 

personal  interview  with  you,"  says  I.  "  Shall 
I  give  it  the  run?  ' 

"  Eh?  "  says  Mr.  Robert,  gazin'  out  over  the 
brass  rail.  He  looks  puzzled  for  a  minute,  and 
then  hanged  if  he  don't  pike  towards  the  gate 
holdin'  out  the  friendly  mitt.  "  By  Jove, 
though!"  he  sings  out.  "If  it  isn't  Nikki- 
Tikki!  Well,  well!  How  does  the  last  of  the 
Samurai  flourish  these  days,  eh?  Welcome 
back,  Nikki!  Come  on  in  for  a  moment,  and 
presently  we  '11  go  to  the  club  for  luncheon. ' ' 

With  that  he  tows  him  inside,  pattin'  him  on 
the  back  and  otherwise  actin'  like  he'd  found 
a  long  lost  brother.  And  me,  I  slides  into  the 
background  with  my  eyes  bugged  and  my  lower 
jaw  loose.  So  I'd  up  and  made  another  mis- 
cue  !  Well,  Nikki  was  such  a  meek  little  shrimp, 
maybe  he'd  forget  to  mention  just  how  gay  he'd 
been  received,  or  how  long  he'd  been  on  the 
siding. 

But,  say,  what  I  don't  know  about  Japs  would 
start  a  circulatin'  lib'ry;  for  when  Mr.  Robert 
drifts  back  from  lunch,  along  about  two-thirty, 
he's  been  well  posted.  Not  that  he  indulges  in 
any  grouch  oration.  No,  he  just  remarks  sar- 
castic that  he  hears  I'm  more  or  less  efficient 
as  an  outer  guard. 

"  At  least,"  he  goes  on,  "  my  friend  Nikki 
seems  to  have  that  impression." 

"  Squealed,  did  he?  "  says  I.    "  But,  say,  Mr. 


GETTING  FROM  UNDEE  151 

Robert,  how  was  I  to  know  you  had  any  Togos 
on  your  confidential  list?  " 

"  Quite  true,"  says  he.  "  It  happens,  how- 
ever, that  Mr.  Tagasaki  was  a  college  classmate 
of  mine,  and  it  turns  out  that  he's  the  son  of  a 
Baron  or  something.  Quite  a  personage,  you 
see.  So  in  future  perhaps  it  would  be  just  as 
well  not  to  advise  him  to  go  back  to  the  bam- 
boos when  he  calls  for  me.  Do  you — er — get 
me?  " 

"  Yes,  Sir,"  says  I,  swallowin'  hard  and 
wonderin'  if  my  ears  looked  as  hot  as  they 
felt. 

'  *  And  by  way  of  reparation, ' '  says  Mr.  Rob- 
ert, "  I  should  suggest  that  to-morrow,  when 
Mr.  Tagasaki  drops  in,  you  might  acknowledge 
your — er — mistake,  and  assure  him  that  he  has 
the  entire  freedom  of  the  offices. ' ' 

"  If  you  say  so,"  says  I,  "  I'll  take  the  gate 
off  the  hinges." 

Anyway,  if  queerin'  myself  all  round  was 
what  I'd  tried  for,  I'd  made  a  good  start.  And 
somehow  it  struck  me  I'd  sort  of  overdone  it 
in  spots.  Not  that  I  was  so  deep  in  love  with 
my  job  I  wanted  to  marry  it,  or  have  it  chained 
to  me  for  life;  but  I  didn't  want  to  chuck  it 
away  foolish,  either. 

So  I  hands  Tagasaki  the  best  apology  I've  got 
in  stock,  holds  the  gate  wide  open  for  him,  and 
invites  him  to  make  himself  at  home  anywhere 


152  TRYING  OUT  TORCHY 

in  the  shop.  It  came  as  hard  as  anything  I 
ever  did,  too,  even  though  Nikki  don't  try  to 
rub  it  in.  He  says  it's  perfectly  all  right  be- 
tween us,  and  that  he  didn't  mind  my  playful 
little  ways  one  bit;  and  all  the  while  he  wears 
that  unconvincin'  Jap  smile  which  reminds  me 
of  the  friendly  expression  a  fox  terrier  shoots  at 
a  cat  he's  got  in  a  corner. 

Nikki  ain't  bashful  about  acceptin'  the  free- 
dom of  the  gen'ral  offices,  either.  From  that 
on  he  comes  and  goes  as  easy  as  if  he'd  been  a 
fire  inspector,  or  one  of  the  board  of  directors ; 
strollin'  into  Mr.  Robert's  room  any  time  of 
day,  struttin'  round  watchin'  the  typists  work, 
and  lettin'  Piddie  show  him  all  the  sights,  from 
the  card  index  cases  to  the  big  safes.  Piddie, 
he  'd  heard  this  Baron  rumor  about  Nikki,  and 
he  almost  breaks  his  neck  doin'  the  flunky  act 
for  him. 

Meantime  the  general  frostiness  towards  me 
don't  melt  any.  Instead  of  that  the  cold  wave 
seemed  to  set  in  harder.  Mr.  Robert  don 't  stop 
at  my  desk  any  more  to  work  off  one  of  his 
gags,  Old  Hickory  gives  me  the  cold  eye  as  he 
pads  by,  and  by  the  looks  I  get  from  Piddie 
you'd  thought  I  was  inhabitin'  one  of  the  con- 
demned cells  up  at  Sing  Sing.  Honest,  things 
was  gettin'  so  chilly  around  there  I  almost  felt 
like  I  needed  mittens  and  earmuffs  durin'  office 
hours. 


GETTING  FROM  UNDER  153 

And  then,  for  a  final  touch  of  gloom,  this 
Googan  party  shows  up. 

Piddle,  strange  to  relate,  takes  pains  to  tell 
me  who  and  what  he  is.  "  Mr.  Googan,"  says 
he,  "  is  a  bond  expert  from  our  Philadelphia 
branch.  He  is  preparing  a-  special  statement 
for  the  annual  meeting.  You  will  see  that  he  is 
supplied  with  anything  he  wishes,  and  you  will 
answer  any  questions  he  may  ask  you." 

"  Suppose  he  calls  for  a  plate  of  hot  fudge, 
and  wants  to  know  why  a  duck  can't  play  the 
flute?  "  says  I. 

"  That  is  quite  enough,  young  man!  "  says 
Piddie,  swingin'  on  his  heel.  "  You  have  your 
orders." 

"Oh,  slap!"  says  I.  "Take  that,  and 
that!" 

Followin'  which,  I  looks  Mr.  Googan  over 
curious.  Bond  expert,  was  he?  Huh!  He 
looked  more  like  a  race  track  booky  on  his  Sun- 
day off.  He  wears  a  soft  brown  lid  so  fuzzy 
it  would  purr  if  you  stroked  it,  and  one  of  these 
horse  blanket  checked  suits  that  looked  like  it 
had  been  marked  out  for  a  tennis  court.  His 
outdoors  complexion  don't  fit  the  description  of 
his  job,  either;  but  maybe  they're  so  crowded 
for  deskroom  in  Quayville  that  they  use  the 
open  lots. 

Anyway,  I  carted  ink  and  pens  and  paste  over 
to  him,  and  had  some  bond  cases  brought  in, 


154  TRYING  OUT  TORCHY 

and  made  him  real  comfy.  They  set  his  desk 
plunk  in  the  middle  of  the  front  office,  which 
struck  me  funny  at  the  start.  Next  I  noticed  that 
every  time  I  glanced  his  way,  instead  of  havin' 
his  shoulders  humped  over  the  blotter  and  his 
nose  in  the  cases,  he  was  squintin'  sleuthy 
around  the  shop,  gen 'rally  in  my  direction. 
And  with  that  I  rigs  up  a  little  pocket  mirror  so 
I  could  keep  tabs  on  him  without  him  gettin' 
wise. 

Must  have  been  a  couple  of  hours,  too,  before 
I  had  sense  enough  to  look  at  his  hoofs.  But 
there  they  were,  reg'lar,  wide  toed,  rubber 
heeled  pavement  pounders,  such  as  every  cop, 
or  anybody  that's  ever  been  on  the  force,  al- 
ways wears.  And  the  minute  I  spots  'em  I  has 
Googan  mapped.  Bond  expert  nothin'!  He  was 
either  sent  up  from  Headquarters,  or  from 
some  private  detective  agency,  on  a  special 
detail. 

But  what  sort  of  a  detail?  And  why  was  I 
gettin'  the  benefit?  I  hadn't  asked  myself 
more'n  half  a  dozen  questions  like  that  before  I 
needed  a  chunk  of  ice  down  the  back  of  my  neck. 
But,  knowin'  that  state  of  mind  wa'n't  worth 
encouragin',  I  simmered  down  and  pretty  soon 
I  sidles  over  his  way. 

"  How  are  you  comin'  on,  Mr.  Googan?  " 
says  I,  as  smooth  as  putty. 

"  Oh,  fine!  "  says  Googan,  spreadin'  out  one 


GETTING  FROM  UNDER  155 

of  our  fancy  engraved  Development  Sixes  and 
puttin'  down  some  figures  on  a  pad. 

11  You'll  find  the  serial  numbers  on  the  back, 
you  know,"  I  suggests,  soft  and  easy. 

"  Eh!  "  says  he,  flushin'  up.  "  Oh,  of 
course. ' '  With  that  he  flops  the  bond  over  and 
begins  huntin'  through  the  machine  scrollwork 
for  figures. 

"Ah,  ha!  "  says  I.  "I  thought  so!  Say, 
Googan,  your  disguise  as  a  bond  expert  ought  to 
be  put  in  some  melodrama.  It's  a  scream." 

And  Googan  turns  purple  in  the  gills. 
"  Think  so,  do  you?  "  he  explodes.  "  Well,  it 
may  not  turn  out  so  funny  for  you  later  on,  my 
son.  I've  had  my  eyes  on  you." 

"  Gwan,  you  fathead!  "  says  I.  "  Any  sec- 
ond class  sneak  could  steal  the  socks  off  your 
feet.  What  you  sleuthin'  me  for,  anyway?  " 

"  You'll  find  that  out  in  due  time,  my  fresh 
lad,"  says  Googan,  glarin'  goggle  eyed. 

' '  I  can  do  better  'n  that, ' '  says  I,  and  marches 
straight  into  Mr.  Robert's  room  and  up  to  the 
desk  where  he  was  sittin'. 

"  Excuse  me  for  advancin'  the  schedule  of 
events,"  says  I,  "  but  why  the  Hawkshaw?  " 

"Eh?    What's  that?  "  says  Mr.  Robert. 

1 1  The  solid  ivory  out  there  with  the  tin  badge 
on  his  suspender?  "  says  I. 

"I'm  afraid,"  says  Mr.  Robert,  "  that  I 
don't  quite  follow  you  yet." 


156  TRYING  OUT  TORCHY 

"  Ah,  Googan,"  says  I,  "  the  one  that's  pos* 
in'  as  an  expert  and  don't  know  a  non-interest 
seven  from  a  magazine  subscription  coupon. 
One  of  them  ex-flat  foots,  that's  what  he  is,  and 
he's  here  tryin'  to  work  up  a  case.  Do  I  ring 
Oie  bell?  " 

And  it's  one  of  the  few  times  I  ever  saw  Mr. 
Robert  look  at  all  foolish.  "  Hang  it!  "  he 
breaks  out,  "  I  'phoned  the  agency  manager  he 
must  send  me  one  of  his  cleverest  men,  and  here 
you've  found  him  out  the  first  forenoon." 

"  Why  not?  "  says  I.  "I  can  still  see  a  little 
out  of  one  eye.  And  with  sleuthin'  goin'  on  so 
close,  I  got  int 'rested." 

"  Of  course,"  says  Mr.  Robert.  "  I  suppose 
I  might  as  well  tell  you  now  that  there  exists 
a  leakage  somewhere  about  the  office,  a  leakage 
that  must  be  stopped." 

"  Not  cash?  "  says  I. 

"  No,  business  secrets,  contents  of  confiden- 
tial letters,  and  so  on,"  says  he.  "  Our  es- 
teemed British  rivals,  the  Birmingham  people, 
seem  to  have  been  profiting,  too.  Hence,  Mr. 
Googan." 

"  But  he  keeps  his  slimy  eyes  glued  to  me," 
says  I,  gettin'  pink  in  the  ears  again.  "  And, 
say,  Mr.  Robert,  it  may  be  a  delicate  way  of 
payin'  a  compliment,  but  I— 

"  Yes,  yes,  I  know,"  says  he.  "  That  is  Mr. 
Piddie's  notion." 


GETTING  FEOM  UNDER  157 

"  Ah,  Piddle !  "  says  I.  "  Why,  if  a  manhole 
should  blow  up  in  the  street,  he'd  try  to  blame 
me  for  it.  Piddie!  Say,  he's  got  boll  weevils 
in  his  intellect  and  mush  on  the  brain.  He'd 
suspect  me  of  anything,  Piddie  would." 

"  And  still,"  comes  back  Mr.  Robert,  squint- 
in'  hard  at  me  with  them  gray-blue  eyes  of  his, 
"  is  it  not  true,  as  Mr.  Piddie  suggests,  that 
you  have  charge  of  the  letterpress,  and  have 
better  opportunities  for  seeing  all  the  corre- 
spondence than  almost  anyone  else?  ' 

That  was  a  staggerer,  that  was.  Up  to  then. 
I  hadn't  dreamed  Mr.  Robert  would  fall  for 
any  dope  like  that  about  me.  Course,  I  could 
see  where  it  might  look  bad,  if  you  had  a  mind 
to  squint  at  it  suspicious  that  way ;  and  I  expect 
there's  nothin'  would  make  him  sore  so  quick  as 
to  think  someone  inside  had  been  sellin'  him 
out.  But  for  him  to  let  'em  put  the  tag  on  me 
at  the  first  hint — well,  I  got  choky  tongued  over 
it,  that's  all.  I  just  stood  there  swallowin* 
lumps  and  starin'  at  him  cross  eyed. 

"  To  be  sure,"  he  goes  on,  "  I  hope  person- 
ally that  Mr.  Piddie  is  wrong.  If  he  is  right, 
however,  and  you  have  anything  to  say  to  me 
before  this  goes  any  further,  I  shall  be  very 
glad  to—" 

"  No,  you  wouldn't,"  I  breaks  in.  "  If  I've 
been  peddlin'  the  firm's  letters  and  you  can  nail 
me  at  it,  all  you  got  a  right  to  do  is  kick  me 


158  TRYING  OUT  TORCHY 

out.  But  don't  look  for  any  weepy  confessions 
out  of  me.  I'm  either  crooked  or  straight,  and 
you  and  Googan  have  started  in  to  find  out 
which.  That  bein'  the  case,  all  I  got  to  say  is, 
blaze  ahead.  Maybe  I  won't  enjoy  the  process; 
but  I  '11  tell  you  one  thing :  you  can  count  on  me 
to  stick  around  until  it's  all  over." 

We  was  lookin'  each  other  square  in  the  eye, 
and  when  I  winds  up  Mr.  Robert  shoves  out  his 
hand.  ' '  Thank  you,  Torchy, ' '  says  he.  * '  You 
shall  have  every  chance  I  can  give  you. ' ' 

That  helped  some;  but  it  didn't  clear  up  any- 
thing, and  as  I  goes  back  on  the  gate  I  finds 
Piddie  and  Googan  in  close  confab.  Maybe  I 
put  in  a  comf 'table  afternoon,  too.  Yes,  I  did — 
like  a  smoosh!  First  I'd  have  a  spell  when  all 
the  hot  claret  I  had  went  gallopin'  up  into  my 
neck  and  face,  and  then  I'd  get  chills  down  the 
back.  Gettin'  wrathy  always  affects  me  like 
that.  But  I  kept  the  lid  on,  and  after  awhile 
I  quit  plannin'  diff'rent  ways  of  spoilin'  Pid- 
die 's  frontispiece,  and  begun  usin'  my  bean  on 
the  proposition. 

Even  if  I  did  know  I  hadn't  been  playin'  the 
sneak  sieve  act,  the  fact  remained  that  some- 
one had,  and  until  the  guilty  party  was  smoked 
out  I  was  as  good  as  it.  There  wa'n't  any  sense 
in  thro  win'  it  back  at  Piddie,  either.  He 
wouldn't  have  the  sand,  in  the  first  place.  Then 
there  was  the  flossy  new  lady  typist,  that 


GETTING  FROM  UNDEE  159 

splurged  on  baby  Irish  collars  and  big  bunches 
of  violets.  Most  likely  that  trail  would  lead  to 
some  old  squash  head  that  took  her  out  for 
table  d'hote  luncheons. 

I  was  still  goin'  over  the  list,  tryin'  to  dig 
up  a  few  suspects,  when  out  through  the  gate 
struts  Mr.  Tagasaki,  smokin'  his  cigarette  and 
swingin'  his  cane  jaunty,  and  it  just  strikes  me 
that  Mr.  Robert's  been  gone  quite  some  time. 

It  lacked  more'n  half  an  hour  of  closin'  time; 
but  I  grabs  my  hat,  slides  out  easy  behind  him, 
watches  him  take  a  local  elevator  down,  catches 
the  next  express  car  myself,  and  I'm  just  in 
time  to  swing  in  behind  him  as  he  steps  lively 
out  through  the  arcade  into  Broadway. 

How  did  I  know?  I  didn't.  I  just  felt  it  in 
the  top  of  my  nut.  Besides,  I  was  ready  to  take 
any  kind  of  a  chance. 

Did  it  lead  anywhere  ?  Say,  the  time  between 
breakfast  next  mornin'  and  the  minute  when 
Mr.  Robert  showed  up  at  the  office,  with  me 
waitin'  to  spring  it  on  him,  seemed  about  a 
month  long.  Piddie  had  somethin'  to  unload 
too;  but  I  beat  him  to  it. 

II  Well,  Torchy?  "  says  Mr.  Robert,  when  I 
chases   him   in    and    shuts    the    door   careful. 
"What  now?  " 

"  Only  this,"  says  I,  flashin'  the  crumpled 
sheet  of  Corrugated  letterhead  that  I'd  had 
under  my  pillow  all  night.  And  I  could  tell  by 


160  TRYING  OUT  TOECHY 

the  way  his  brow  furrowed  up  as  he  ran  over 
the  notes  on  it  that  he  was  some  joggled. 

"  Boy,"  says  he,  "  where  did  you  find 
this?  " 

"  It  wa'n't  a  find,"  says  I:  "it  was  a  case 
of  pinchin'  it.  Mr.  Tagasaki  had  it  tight  in 
his  fist." 

"Nikki!"  says  Mr.  Robert,  suckin'  in  his 
breath.  "  That's  so,  by  Jove!  It's  his  writ- 
ing! " 

"  I  had  a  hunch  it  might  be,"  says  I,  "  when 
I  see  him  pikin'  into  the  Metropolitan  Buildin' 
and  takin'  it  out  of  his  inside  pocket  so  cautious. 
He  was  too  busy  goin'  over  it  to  notice  me  in 
the  same  elevator;  but  I  couldn't  get  near 
enough  to  peek  over  his  shoulder,  so  when  he 
gets  out  and  stops  in  front  of  the  Birmingham- 
Wales  Consolidated — " 

"  Went  directly  there,  did  he?  "  says  Mr. 
Robert  through  his  teeth. 

"  Uh-huh,"  says  I.  "  And  was  pushin'  right 
in  when  I — well,  I  must  have  slipped  or  some- 
thin',  for  I  bumped  him  kind  of  hard,  and 
swiped  this  at  the  same  time.  After  that  it  was 
a  case  of  who  could  sprint  down  fourteen  flights 
of  marble  steps  faster.  He  ain't  so  slow  on  his 
feet,  either;  but  I  guess  he  was  too  anxious,  or 
else  the  cane  tripped  him.  Anyway,  the  last 
I  saw  he  was  caromin'  against  a  scrub  lady 
about  the  sixth  floor.  But,  say,  Mr.  Robert,  you 


A  CASE  OF  WHICH  COULD  SPRINT  FASTER.    Page  160. 


GETTING  FROM  UNDER  161 

don't  need  any  plumber  to  plug  that  leak  now, 
do  you!  " 

Ah,  what's  the  use?  It  was  a  smear  for  the 
Jap.  All  that  Baron  business  was  a  fake,  too. 

Me?  Say,  shade  your  eyes  now!  Yep! 
That's  what  Mr.  Robert  laid  on  my  desk  this 
noon.  Thin  one,  ain't  it?  Them's  the  classy 
clocks,  you  know.  And  there's  goin'  to  be  some 
engravin'  done  on  the  outside  of  the  case;  and 
when  it's  all  fixed  up,  with  a  monogram  fob, 
Mr.  Robert  says  he's  goin'  to  call  the  force  to- 
gether and  have  Piddie  make  the  presentation 
speech.  Fancy  that,  now! 


CHAPTER  X 

STKIKING  A  LEVEL  ON  LAMMA-LU 

EVEN  when  you  know  better,  it's  hard  to  for- 
get that  what  everybody  says  ain't  always  so. 
And  they  gen 'rally  begin  about  this  time  of 
year,  when  the  Fifth-ave.  folks  put  up  their 
wooden  fronts  and  the  Third-ave.  people  start 
sleepin'  on  the  fire  escapes,  to  tell  how  dull  the 
town  is. 

Piddie  shoots  it  off  first,  because  he's  just 
read  it  in  the  paper.  Skid  Mallory  makes  the 
same  announcement,  because  he's  let  young  Mrs. 
Skid  go  West  for  a  visit  to  Pa  and  Ma;  and 
Old  Hickory  Ellins,  with  the  folks  all  in  New- 
port and  half  his  best  enemies  gone  from  the 
club,  remarks  vigorous  as  he  pads  in  from 
lunch  fannin'  himself  with  his  forty-dollar 
panama,  that  of  all  the  blinkety  blanked  hot,  un- 
interestin'  holes  this  side  of  the  great  sulphur 
springs,  New  York  is  the  worst. 

So,  when  I'm  turned  loose  from  the  Cor- 
rugated that  Saturday  noon,  and  find  a  few 
more  empty  chairs  than  usual  at  the  dairy 
lunch,  and  remember  that  the  Yanks  are  playin' 
in  Phillie  this  week,  and  notice  how  scatterin* 

162 


STRIKING  A  LEVEL  ON  LAMMA-LU   163 

the  crowds  are  on  the  sunny  side  of  Broadway, 
I  almost  has  to  admit  that  there  are  times  when 
this  is  a  dead  slow  burg. 

"  Nothin'  doin',  up  or  down,"  says  I  to  my- 
self. "  Gee  but  I  wish  I  was  off  in  some  live 
wire  junction  where  things  was  happeninM  " 

I'd  backed  up  into  the  shade  of  a  closed  store 
entrance  and  was  just  figurin'  out  a  Coney 
Island  program  to  shake  the  willies,  when  all 
of  a  sudden  I  gets  wise  to  the  fact  that  I'm 
bein'  sized  up  by  a  passin'  gent.  Before  I  can 
do  more  than  give  him  a  quick  squint  and  de- 
cide that  likely  he's  some  bum  actor  preparin' 
to  touch  me  for  a  cigarette,  he  swings  in  easy 
and  graceful  and  ranges  up  alongside. 

"  Ah,  ha!  "  says  he,  sort  of  chuckly.  "  By 
the  great  horned  frog  of  Yucatan!  The  much 
desired  tint!  " 

* '  Muh !  ' J  says  I.  ' '  Another  nutty  victim  of 
the  picture  shows.  Gwan !  ' ' 

"  Pardon  me,"  says  he,  "  if  I  allowed  my 
enthusiasm  to  make  me  forget  the  conventions ; 
but  I  have  searched  long  and  vainly  for  such  as 
you,  my  son." 

"  Have,  eh?  "  says  I,  backin'  off.  It  might 
be  wheels  and  maybe  it  was  only  the  heat ;  but 
it  was  dippy  dialogue  he  was  passin'  out,  and  I 
wa'n't  takin'  any  chances. 

"  Fear  not,  Son,"  says  he.  "  I  come  as  a 
friend. ' ' 


164  TRYING-  OUT  TORCHY 

"  You  got  a  good  disguise  on,"  says  I. 
"  What's  the  game?  " 

"  Permit  me  first,"  says  he,  "  to  allay  your 
very  natural  hesitancy  to  talk  to  a  stranger. 
My  carte  de  visite." 

With  that  he  slips  me  an  engraved  card 
which  says  how  he  is  Mr.  Payson  Bannister 
Wicks,  D.A. 

"  That's  some  name,"  says  I;  "  but  the  D.A.? 
I  can't  connect.  Doctor  of  which?  " 

"  Archeology,"  says  he. 

11  Never  had  a  corn  in  my  life,"  says  I. 

"  No,  no!  "  says  he.  "  Scientific  research 
among  the  relics  of  ancient  civilization  is  my 
field.  I  specialize  in  the  antiquities  of  re- 
ligion. ' ' 

"  Thanks,"  says  I;  "  but  I  ain't  buyin'  any 
antiques  to-day." 

"  To  reduce  my  proposal  to  a  coldly  com- 
mercial basis,"  says  Mr.  Wicks,  "  may  I  ask 
if  you  would  seriously  object  to  making  five 
dollars  easy  money!  " 

"  Flash  the  five,"  says  I. 

And  Payson  Bannister,  havrrr  shrugged  his 
shoulders,  unlimbers  a  bill  fold  that  was  fat 
with  crisp  ones;  while,  if  I'd  been  writin'  his 
customs  declaration  after  that  first  glimpse,  I'd 
put  him  down  for  a  few  unredeemed  pledge 
tickets,  a  lucky  pocketpiece,  and  about  thirty- 
eight  cents  cash. 


STEIKING  A  LEVEL  ON  LAMMA-LU  165 

Come  to  look  him  over  close,  though,  I  could 
see  he  wa'ri't  costumed  like  the  last  act  of  bet- 
ter days.  His  high  crowned  gray  felt  with  the 
black  band  still  has  the  fact'ry  finish  to  it,  his 
featherweight  gray  mohair  must  have  been  built 
to  fit  them  broad  shoulders,  and  his  tan  walkin' 
pumps  was  the  latest  thing  in  classy  footwear. 

Yet  there  was  something  about  that  big,  heavy 
face  of  his  that  didn't  exactly  suit  me.  Maybe 
it  was  the  thick  under  lip,  or  the  sag  to  his  lower 
jaw,  or  the  quick  shift  to  his  gray-green  eyes. 
Anyway,  he  was  almost  too  smooth  to  be  true, 
and  I  wa'n't  goin'  to  let  anybody  do  the  con- 
versational snake  charmer  act  on  me. 

"I'm  nibblin';  but  I  ain't  swallowin'  the  bait 
whole  yet,"  says  I.  "  Now  what's  the  rest? 
Want  me  to  hold  the  fake  wallet  while  you  take 
my  watch  as  security  and  find  a  friend?  ' 

"  I  am  grieved,  Son,  deeply  grieved,"  says 
the  D.A.,  "  to  be  the  subject  of  such  unjust  sus- 
picion, when  my  simple  purpose  is  to  secure 
your  assistance  in  an  enterprise  of  high  merit." 

Say,  he  did  it  well  too;  nothin'  gushy,  no 
overplayin '  the  part,  but  just  a  pained,  sad  look, 
and  a  deep  sigh. 

"  Ah,  chirk  up,"  says  I,  "  and  let's  hear  how 
it  is  I  can  win  the  five !  " 

"  Thanks,  child  of  the  sun,  thanks,"  says  he. 
"  Know,  then,  that  you  are  called  of  Zapira  to 
be  her  acolyte." 


166  TRYING  OUT  TOBCHY 

"  I've  been  called  out  of  my  name  lots  of 
times,  Mr.  Wicks,"  says  I;  "  but  this  is  where 
I  get  off  and  ask  directions.  Her  aco — which?  " 

"  An  acolyte,"  says  he,  "  is  one  who  assists 
at  a  sacred  rite.  Zapira,  golden  haired  daugh- 
ter of  the  Incas,  would  have  you  attend  her  at 
the  altar." 

"  Best  man,  or  groom?  "  says  I. 

"  Nay,  nay!  "  says  Payson.  "  You  are 
wanted  as  helper  to  a  priestess.  It  is  for  you 
to  bear  the  symbols  of  an  ancient  faith.  That 
is  all.  And  the  sacred  ceremony  lasts  not  more 
than  half  an  hour." 

11  When  does  it  come  off?  "  says  I. 

"  This  very  eventide,"  says  Wicks,  "  the 
same  being  the  beginning  of  the  year  four  thou- 
sand and  ten,  according  to  the  calendar  of 
Kechua  the  Great.  You  come  a  little  before 
nine,  and  nine-forty-five  you  depart. ' ' 

"  And  it's  five  a  throw?  "  says  I. 

"  In  advance,  if  you  like,"  says  Wicks,  reach- 
in'  for  the  wad. 

' '  Tut,  tut !  ' '  says  I.  "I  ain  't  signed  on  yet. 
Is  it  on  account  of  my  thatch  I'm  picked  for 
this?  " 

"  Aye,  the  gods  have  prepared  you  for  it," 
says  Wicks.  ' '  You  are  favored  with  the  golden 
aureole,  even  as  Zapira,  and  she  will  be  well 
pleased  to  look  upon  you." 

"  That's  cheerin',"  says  I;  "  but  don't  you 


STRIKING  A  LEVEL  ON  LAMMA-LU   167 

go  to  bankin'  too  heavy  on  me.  Course,  I  ain't 
castin'  asparagus,  or  anything  like  that;  but 
this  sacred  rite  business  sounds  like  phony 
press  agent  stuff.  You'll  find  plenty  of  Bed- 
dies,  though,  that  ain't  so  particular,  and  I  guess 
you  better  hunt  up  another." 

"I'll  make  it  ten,"  says  Wicks.  "  Come, 
now!  ': 

"  Ten's  harder  to  pass  by  than  five,"  I  ad- 
mits, "  but  I'd  have  to  hear  more  details  in 
words  I  could  understand." 

"  Why,  certainly,"  says  Wicks.  "  As  we 
walk  up  the  street." 

And,  say,  hanged  if  he  couldn't  put  it  over 
convincin'!  Seems  Wicks  was  a  college  pro- 
fessor who'd  had  to  quit  for  a  year  on  account 
of  his  health,  and  while  he  was  vacatin'  in  Spain 
he  runs  across  an  old  Spanish  explorer's  book 
that  told  about  this  temple  of  Lamma-Lu.  At 
first  he  didn't  know  whether  to  take  any  stock 
in  it  or  not;  for  as  a  tale  of  glitterin'  gold  it 
was  a  whopper. 

Accordin'  to  the  book,  this  temple  was  in 
Peru,  'way  back  in  the  mountains  somewhere, 
and  it  had  a  floor  paved  with  solid  gold  blocks ; 
but  it  wa'n't  any  account  of  sordid  gold  that 
interested  Professor  Payson  Bannister  Wicks. 
What  got  him  stirred  up  was  the  hint  that  here 
was  a  clew  to  the  last  stand  made  by  the  Incas, 
the  scene  of  the  finish  of  the  wonderful,  mystic, 


168  TRYING  OUT  TOECHY 

prehistoric  religion  which,  was  already  old  be- 
fore Moses  built  the  ark.  Eh?  Well— before 
something  of  the  kind  happened. 

Course,  I  can't  give  it  to  you  the  way  Wicks 
fed  it  to  me,  for  he  sure  did  know  how  to  jug- 
gle language;  but  you  can  get  the  idea.  They 
worshiped  the  sun,  them  old  Incas  did,  and 
made  a  thorough  job  of  it,  buildin'  whackin'  big 
temples  that  would  lay  over  anything  we  Ve  got 
on  Fifth-ave.  to-day.  The  priests  was  the  whole 
show  too,  runnin'  the  Grover'ment  as  well  as 
the  churches,  and  doin'  all  the  graftin'  and  all 
the  prayin'  themselves.  Every  bit  of  gold  that 
was  mined  they  grabbed  for  the  temples,  and 
you  can  figure  out  they  must  have  been  some 
class  with  eighteen-carat  tiles  for  the  floors. 

But  extravagance  like  that  was  what  let  'em 
in  bad  at  the  last.  Along  came  the  Spaniards, 
hungry  for  just  such  building  material,  and  the 
way  they  rough-housed  them  sun  worshipers 
and  their  temples  was  something  fierce.  They 
chased  'em  from  place  to  place,  robbin'  and 
killin',  until  they  was  scattered  worse  Jn  the 
Prohibition  vote  in  a  Tammany  ward. 

Now,  Professor  Wicks  he'd  studied  all  about 
these  people,  and  he'd  been  thinkin'  of  takin' 
a  trip  down  there  to  paw  around  among  the  old 
ruins;  so  when  he  gets  this  hunch  about  the 
temple  of  Lamma-Lu,  off  he  pikes.  The  direc- 
tions was  kind  of  vague,  and  he  had  his  doubts 


STRIKING  A  LEVEL  ON  LAMMA-LU   169 

about  findin'  the  exact  spot;  but  he  blazes 
ahead. 

"  And,  Son,"  says  he,  stoppin'  me  impressive 
in  the  middle  of  the  sidewalk  in  Greeley  Square, 
11  I  not  only  found  the  temple  of  Lamma-Lu, 
hidden  though  it  was  in  an  almost  inaccessible 
valley  behind  the  great  peaks  of  the  Andes,  but 
I  discovered  the  Priestess  Zapira,  sole  survivor 
of  the  Incas.  She  is  here,  right  here  in  New 
York." 

"Gee?"  says  I.    "What  for?" 

"  Ah!  "  says  Wicks.  "  The  very  point  I  was 
coming  to." 

And  it's  all  simple  enough.  Zapira  was  try- 
in'  to  collect  enough  of  her  people  to  clear  away 
the  wreck  of  the  old  temple  and  build  a  sort 
of  a  chapel  on  the  spot,  it  being  her  scheme  to 
hold  a  kind  of  sun  worshipers'  revival  and  start 
things  goin'  again.  But,  as  the  recruits  was 
few  and  as  the  temple  wa'n't  much  rnore'n  a 
heap  of  stones,  it  seemed  like  a  hopeless  job. 

Then  Professor  Wicks  comes  to  the  front 
with  his  proposition.  If  Zapira  would  go  with 
him  to  New  York,  tell  the  people  what  she 
wanted  to  do,  show  them  how  the  sacred  rites 
of  sun  worshipin'  was  worked,  and  all  that,  he 
would  bet  his  head  against  a  cocoanut  that  she 
could  get  the  proper  backin'  to  rebuild  Lamma- 
Lu  accordin'  to  the  original  specifications,  with 
steam  heat,  open  plumbin',  and  stained  glass 


170  TRYING  OUT  TOKCHY 

windows  thrown  in;  providing  of  course,  she 
was  willin'  to  swap  the  solid  gold  pavin'  for  the 
best  mosaic  tilin'  turned  out  in  Trenton,  N.  J. 
And  Zapira,  who  cared  more  for  her  ancient 
religion  than  for  all  the  gold  you  could  load  on 
a  train  of  coal  cars,  said  she  was  perfectly 
willin'.  Tiles  for  her,  every  time! 

"  Which  brings  us,"  says  Professor  Wicks, 
"  to  the  humble  but  somewhat  essential  part  I 
am  asking  you  to  take  in  this  noble  enterprise. 
Thanks  to  my  untiring  efforts,  I  have  been  able 
to  interest  a  number  of  influential  men  of  affairs 
in  our  plans  for  restoring  the  temple  of  Lamma- 
Lu  and  of  reviving  a  religion  whose  origin  has 
been  lost  in  the  mists  of  prehistoric  ages.  This 
very  night  some  of  them  will  gather  to  witness 
the  Priestess  Zapira  go  through  those  ancient 
rites.  Here  in  the  midst  of  this  wicked  city  she 
has  set  up  her  altar  to  that  deity  whom  primi- 
tive man  first  honored  with  his  crude  homage, — • 
to  the  great  round  sun.  She  demands  a  cup- 
bearer, an  acolyte ;  but  he  must  be  a  child  of  the 
sun,  a  golden  haired  one,  like  herself.  None 
other  will  answer.  And  you,  young  man — 
well—" 

11  I  see,"  says  I,  takin'  off  my  straw  lid  to  let 
him  have  a  good  view.  "  I  ought  to  qualify  in 
the  finals,  eh?  " 

"  You  do,"  says  he.    "  And  you'll  come?  v 

Well,  there  I  was,  dead  up  against  it.    Course, 


STRIKING  A  LEVEL  ON  LAMMA-LU  171 

it  was  a  weird  proposition  to  have  sprung  on 
you,  right  on  Broadway  of  a  Saturday  after- 
noon, this  tale  of  old  Spaniards,  and  ruined 
temples,  and  a  priestess  from  Peru.  And  I  ex- 
pect, if  I'd  been  better  posted  along  them  lines, 
I'd  have  done  the  suspicious  duck;  but,  hearin' 
Professor  Wicks  tell  it  all  so  straight  and 
earnest,  and  bein'  some  curious  about  this  altar 
stunt — well,  I  fell  for  it. 

"  Eight-forty-five,  eh?  "  says  I.  "  Gimme 
the  number,  and  I'll  be  there." 

It  wa'n't  any  hamfatters'  roost  down  in  the 
theatrical  district,  either.  It's  the  first  floor 
suite  of  a  swell  boardin'  house  up  in  the  70 's, 
with  a  neat  dressed  maid  on  the  door.  And 
when  I'm  towed  in  to  Professor  Wicks  I  find 
him  got  up  in  full,  open  faced  evenin'  clothes. 
He's  busy  arrangin'  a  bunch  of  long  stemmed 
roses  in  a  tall  vase,  and  placin'  the  chairs 
around  in  a  semicircle  facin'  the  curtain  that 
shuts  off  the  back  parlor. 

"  Well,  Profess,"  says  I,  "  you  see  I'm  run- 
nin'  on  sched." 

"  S-s-s-sh!  "  says  he,  givin'  the  soft  pedal 
sign.  "  The  Priestess  Zapira  has  entered  the 
sacred  silence  while  the  incense  burns  on  the 
altar.  Softly,  now,  softly !  Here  are  the  vest- 
ments of  your  office." 

With  that  he  lugs  out  what  looks  like  a  white 
cotton  nighty  with  long,  flowin'  sleeves  edged 


172  TRYING  OUT  TOECHY 

with  three  inches  of  bright  red  ribbon. 
he's  dropped  that  over  my  head  and  tied  it 
tight  above  my  collar,  he  picks  up  a  gilt  medal 
cut  out  to  look  like  a  sunburst  and  drapes  it 
around  my  neck  like  a  chest  protector.  Next 
he  takes  a  comb  and  fluffs  out  my  red  hair,  and 
as  a  finishin'  touch  he  hands  me  a  brass  bowl 
about  the  size  of  a  wash  basin. 

1 1  Gee !  "  I  whispers,  gettin '  a  glimpse  in  the 
pier  glass.  "I'm  all  dolled  up  now,  ain't 
I?  " 

"  You  are  attired  as  befits  one  who  attends 
the  Priestess  Zapira  before  the  altar  of  the 
Incas,"  says  Wicks,  solemn  and  serious.  "  Now 
prepare  yourself  to  enter  the  presence  and  re- 
ceive instruction  in  your  duties." 

Oh,  you  can  snicker  now;  but  you  ain't  get- 
tin'  the  full  effects  of  that  dim  light,  and  the 
drawn  curtains,  and  all  the  rest.  Honest,  it 
near  had  my  knees  wabbly,  and  when  he  calls 
out  low  and  husky,  "  O  Zapira,  the  acolyte 
awaits  your  pleasure!  "  I  was  swallowin'  hard 
and  gettin'  dry  in  the  throat. 

"  Come!  "  says  a  voice  behind  the  curtain, 
and  Wicks  grabs  me  by  the  hand  and  drags 
me  in. 

And,  say,  I  ain't  much  up  on  ancient  altars; 
but  I  should  say  this  was  a  good  specimen.  It's 
about  eight  feet  long,  and  six  or  seven  high, 
all  glitterin'  with  gilt  paper,  and  with  three  or 


STRIKING  A  LEVEL  ON  LAMMA-LU   173 

four  red  steps  leadin'  up  to  the  front.  Just 
over  it  hangs  a  blazin'  sun  more'n  two  feet 
across,  and  at  either  end  comes  up  a  gold  torch 
with  real  flames  shootin'  out  of  the  top. 

I'd  gawped  at  it  a  minute  and  had  got  my 
eyes  used  to  the  bright  light  before  I  discovers 
the  priestess.  She's  wearin'  a  white  robe  too, 
only  hers  is  soft  and  silky  and  the  red  decora- 
tions is  more  flossy.  She's  layin'  back  easy  in 
a  big  chair,  with  her  head  half  turned  away; 
but  I  can  see  she's  a  stunnin'  big  woman,  with  a 
lot  of  copper  red  hair  that's  braided  in  two 
long  plaits  and  brought  over  her  shoulders. 

I  was  just  wonderin'  whether  it  was  up  to 
me  to  drop  on  both  knees  and  bump  my  head  on 
the  rug,  or  wait  for  her  to  give  the  signal,  when 
she  turns  around  slow  and  deliberate.  And, 
say,  you  could  have  blown  me  over  with  a 
breath.  The  Priestess  Zapira!  Ah,  guff! 
Didn't  I  use  to  see  her  on  an  average  of  twice  a 
day  around  at  Mother  Sykes',  when  she  was 
doin'  the  fortune  tellin'  act  in  the  back  parlor 
and  I  had  a  room  on  the  top  floor?  And  hadn't 
I  butted  in  and  staked  her  to  a  five- spot  once  < 
when  business  had  been  dull  and  the  Sykes  per- 
son was  havin'  it  out  in  the  hall  about  back 
rent  and  the  wear  of  so  many  visitors  trampin' 
over  the  carpet? 

"  Why,  hello,  Madam  Lecour!  "  says  I. 

For  a  second  there,  as  she  jumped  to  her  feet 


174  TRYING  OUT  TOECHY 

and  looked  wild,  I  thought  she  was  goin'  to  make 
a  dash  for  the  street,  just  as  she  was;  but  it 
was  only  a  spasm.  Next  minute  she  steadies 
down,  takes  a  good  look  at  me,  and  then  throws 
back  her  head  for  a  low,  ripply  laugh. 

"  Well,  well!  "  says  she.    "  Torchy!  " 

11  Some  disguise,"  says  I;  "  but  no  more'n 
you." 

At  that  Professor  Wicks,  who's  been  standin' 
goggle  eyed  and  open  mouthed,  breaks  in. 
"  I — er — I  trust  that  our  young  friend,"  says 
he,  "  does  not  fancy  that  in  the  Priestess  Zapira 
he  recognizes  someone  whom  he — " 

'  *  Ah,  dry  up,  Wicksy !  ' '  says  Madam  Lecour. 
"  Of  course  he  knows  me." 

With  that  she  lets  loose  another  laugh,  and 
then,  settlin'  back  comf 'table,  digs  up  the  cigar- 
ette she'd  hid  away  a  minute  before  and  pro- 
ceeds to  burn  some  more  incense. 

* '  But,  my  dear, ' '  says  Wicks,  lookin '  worried 
from  one  to  the  other  of  us,  ' '  how  could  I  tell  ? 
We  needed  a  red  haired  youth,  you  know,  and — 
and  I  found  one." 

"  Yes,  you've  mussed  things  up,  as  usual, 
Wicksy,"  says  she,  puffin'  rings  placid. 

* '  I  take  it,  then, ' '  says  I, ' '  that  all  this  lovely 
tale  you  pumped  into  me  about  temples  paved 
with  gold  was  more  or  less  hot  air,  eh?  Well, 
it  was  a  bird!  '; 

"  WJiy — er — you  see,  my  dear  young  man," 


STRIKING  A  LEVEL  ON  LAMMA-LU   175 

begins  the  Professor,  "  it  may  be  that  in  the 
warmth  of  my  zeal  for — " 

"  There,  there,  Wicksy!  "  breaks  in  Madam 
Lecour.  "  What's  the  use?  And  it's  a  fool 
scheme,  anyway.  I  always  said  it  was.  You 
see,  Torchy,  what  I  get  by  marrying  a  back 
number  sideshow  manager.  Look  at  the  pipe 
dream  he  thinks  he  can  get  away  with!  Might 
be  all  right  under  a  canvas  top,  maybe,  with 
a  lot  of  country  boobs  ready  to  throw  their 
quarters  into  the  box ;  but  to  spring  a  thing  like 
this  on  city  people —  No,  no,  Wicksy!  " 

"  But  haven't  I  made  good  so  far?  "  de- 
mands Payson  Bannister.  "  What  about  the 
five  hundred  I  scooped  in  last  week?  " 

11  Big  risks,  Wicksy,  big  risks,  though,"  says 
Madam  Lecour.  ' '  And  I  don't  like  it.  I  should 
have  stuck  to  palms,  and  you  to  doing  your  re- 
fined museum  lectures.  That  was  straight  coin. 
But  this —  Ugh!  It  makes  me  creepy." 

"  Pooh!  "  says  Wicks.  "  Besides,  it's  too 
late  to  quit  now.  They'll  be  here  any  moment. 
Son,  do  you  still  want  to  earn  that  ten?  ' 

"  Nix  for  me!  "  says  I.  "  I  ain't  ringin' 
in  any  alarm  on  an  old  friend;  but  I've  got  to 
back  out." 

"  As  you  choose,"  says  he.  "  Then  you'll 
have  to  go  on  without  a  helper,  Minnie." 

"  Not  to-night,  Wicksy,"  says  Madam  Le- 
cour. "  I've  been  jolted  too  hard." 


176  TRYING  OUT  TOKCHY 

11  But  what  can  I  do?  "  says  he.  "  What 
can  I  tell  them?  " 

"  Ah,  say  I'm  in  a  trance,  or  a  faint — any- 
thing to  stand  'em  off,"  says  she.  "  Per- 
haps by  to-morrow,  or  the  day  after,  I 
can — 

"  Here  they  come!"  says  Wicks.  "The 
bell!" 

Well,  as  there  was  no  gettin'  out  for  me  then, 
I  stays  behind  the  curtain  chattin'  with  Madam 
Lecour,  while  the  professor  receives  the  guests 
and  hands  out  the  smooth  talk.  The  bell  kept 
ringin'  and  ringin',  until  there  must  have  been 
ten  or  a  dozen  out  front;  and  I  judged  Wicksy 
was  havin'  a  busy  session,  for  at  times  we  could 
hear  three  or  four  talkin'  at  once.  But  the 
professor  was  right  there  with  the  palaver,  and 
inside  of  a  quarter  of  an  hour  he's  cleared  the 
room. 

"  Well,"  says  he,  showin'  up  once  more  be- 
tween the  draperies  and  moppin'  his  brow, 
"  I've  stood  'em  off  for  this  time,  Minnie. 
Some  didn't  like  it  much  and  beefed  for  the 
show  to  go  on;  but  I  promised  Tuesday  night 
for  sure,  and  at  last  I  got  'em  all  out." 

' '  All  but  one !  ' '  growls  a  deep,  heavy  voice 
behind  the  professor.  And  if  Wicks  turned 
cheese  color  and  shook  in  his  shoes,  so  did  I;  for 
I  knew  the  voice.  "  Huh!  '  it  goes  on. 
"  Thought  you  could  flimflam  me,  did  you? 


STRIKING  A  LEVEL  ON  LAMMA-LU  177 

Well,  by  the  great  snortin'  snakes!  we'll  see 
about  that." 

And  pushin'  past  the  professor  comes — hon- 
est, I  hate  to  name  him,  but  you'd  never  guess 
who— Old  Hickory  Ellins! 

"  Now,"  says  he,  nailin'  Wicks  by  the  collar, 
"  I  want  to  know  just  what  sort  of  a — " 

That's  as  far  as  he  got,  though;  for  just  then 
as  he  glares  around  the  room,  them  cut-steel 
eyes  of  his  light  On  me,  standin'  there  lookin' 
foolish  and  tryin'  to  untie  the  puckerin'  string 
of  that  blamed  nighty. 

"  Well,  I'll  be  eternally  crisped!  "  he  gasps 
out.  "You!" 

"  Uh-huh,"  says  I,  grinnin'  in  spite  of  my* 
self. 

"  And  what  in  the  name  of  the  blithering 
blazes,"  says  he,  "  might  you  be  doing  here?  " 

"  Aconitin'  the  altar,"  says  I. 

"  Wha-a-at?  "  he  snorts. 

"  Well,  somethin'  like  that,"  says  I.  "  Only 
I've  resigned.  I  quit  as  soon  as  I  finds  it's  a 
bunk  frame-up  and  that  the  Priestess  Zapira 
was  only  Madam  Lecour." 

"  Oh!  '  he  sneers.  "  Then  you  are  ac- 
quainted with  one  of  this  precious  pair  of 
swindlers,  are  you?  " 

"  Ah,  say,  Mr.  Ellins,"  says  I,  "  don't  go 
drawin'  it  too  strong  on  Madam  Lecour.  She's 
an  old  boardin'  house  friend  of  mine  that's  al- 


178  TRYING  OUT  TORCHY 

ways  done  straight  palm  readin'  until  she  was 
dragged  into  this  priestess  stunt  by  Hubby 
here." 

"  If  Mr.  Ellins  will  grant  me  but  a  moment,'' 
breaks  in  Wicks,  "  I  shall  endeavor  to  ex- 
plain— " 

"  Say,  I've  heard  too  much  from  you  al- 
ready," snaps  Old  Hickory,  "  and  you  couldn't 
tell  the  truth  if  you  tried,  anyway.  I  prefer 
to  listen  to  Torchy.  Come,  young  man,  get  out 
of  that  fancy  dress  kimono  and  trot  along  with 
me!  " 

"  Sure,"  says  I. 

"  In  case  of  any  dissatisfaction,"  says  the 
professor,  "  I  am  ready  to  return  your  sub- 
scription, Sir." 

"  More  fool  you,  then,"  says  Mr.  Ellins. 
"I'd  advise  you  to  invest  that  hundred  in  rail- 
road tickets,  and  use  'em  mighty  quick.  Come 
along,  Torchy." 

That's  the  game  old  sport  he  is.  He'd  been 
stung  good  and  plenty,  and  he  'd  been  sore  about 
it!  but  as  soon  as  I'd  given  him  the  whole  story 
about  Madam  Lecour  he  just  grins. 

"  Well,"  says  he,  "as  a  source  of  hot 
weather  amusement  it  was  almost  worth  the 
price.  Anyway,  I  guess  none  of  us  can  afford 
to  squeal." 

"  But,  say,  Mr.  Ellins,"  says  I,  as  we  parts 
at  the  corner,  "  which  was  it  he  got  you  on,  the 


STRIKING  A  LEVEL  ON  LAMMA-LU   179 

scheme  for  restorin'  the  temple,  or  the  gold- 
brick  proposition?  " 

"  See  here,  Son,"  says  Old  Hickory,  pattin' 
me  heavy  on  the  back,  "  let's  you  and  I  not 
ask  each  other  any  embarrassing  questions. 
What  we  want  to  do  now  is  to  forget. ' ' 

Well,  I'm  doin'  my  best;  but  don't  anybody 
try  to  tell  me  how  this  is  a  dull  town,  at  any 
time  of  year. 


CHAPTEE  XI 

PIDDIE   GETS   ONE    OFF   THE    BAT 

COUKSE,  the  only  one  I  could  work  up  any 
real  keen  regrets  for  in  this  mixup  the  other 
afternoon  was  Piddie.  Oh,  yes!  I  ain't  quite 
got  to  the  stage  where  I  wake  up  at  night  and 
wonder  if  by  any  careless  slip  durin'  the  day 
I've  done  anything  to  annoy  Mr.  Piddie;  but  it 
sure  would  be  a  shame  to  mess  up  the  harmony 
of  such  a  noble  soul ! 

It  was  Piddie  starts  me  out  with  strict  in- 
structions that  I  must  report  back  at  the  office 
by  three-thirty,  no  matter  what  happened. 
He'd  gone  over  for  the  third  time  all  about 
how  careful  I  must  be  of  this  bunch  of  papers 
I  was  to  take  up  to  an  alfalfa  plute,  where  the 
hotel  was  exactly,  and  so  on,  and  he  winds  up 
by  remarkin'  once  more,  "  And  you  know  if 
you're  not  back  here  by  half  after  three — " 

"  Sure,  Piddie,"  says  I,  "  I  know;  the  roof 'li 
fall  in,  and  the  boiler '11  blow  up,  and  the  ice- 
water  cooler '11  break  out  with  the  hives.  So 
hold  the  watch  on  me  while  I  take  a  flyin' 
start." 

For  all  I  was  deliverin'  was  some  duplicate 

180 


PIDDLE  GETS  ONE  OFF  THE  BAT     181 

contracts  to  a  chesty  gent  who  was  too  hook- 
wormy  to  come  down  after  'em  himself.  But 
Piddle  never  loses  any  chance  of  tryin'  to  put 
me  in  wrong,  and  this  settin'  a  time  limit  on  me 
in  the  hope  of  a  subway  block  or  something 
like  that  is  one  of  his  fav'rite  schemes.  This 
was  once  too  where  he  stood  to  win. 

No,  it  wa'n't  any  hold-up  on  the  Inter- 
borough.  I  makes  the  big  uptown  hotel  well 
inside  the  schedule,  sends  a  'phone  message 
from  the  desk  up  to  the  plute's  room,  unloads 
the  package  straight  and  proper,  and  am  nicely 
on  my  way  down  from  the  seventeenth  floor 
without  anybody  even  crossin'  their  fingers  on 
me. 

At  the  fifteenth  young  Smoky  Days,  the  Ja- 
maica brunette  who's  jugglin'  the  speed  lever, 
brings  the  big  cage  up  with  a  jerk  and  slams 
back  the  door  for  a  couple  I'd  seen  waitin'  as 
I  went  up.  They'd  missed  cars  on  either  side 
of  'em  and  was  stickin'  to  this  shaft,  watchin' 
the  indicator  lights  solemn  and  patient. 

And  they  sure  was  a  jay  pair  to  be  driftin' 
around  in  a  ten-a-day  house  like  that.  The 
gent  is  one  of  these  wide  shouldered,  heavy 
built  parties,  with  a  rugged  home  made  face,  a 
generous  mouth,  and  thick  ears  that  stuck  out 
like  wings  would  on  a  pig.  He's  wearin'  a 
nobby  sack  suit  with  a  brown,  green,  and  red 
plaid  pattern  that  allows  about  two  and  a  half 


182  TRYING  OUT  TORCHY 

squares  across  the  back,  and  the  front  of  his 
vest  is  decorated  with  secret  order  pins  and 
medals  like  the  uniform  coat  of  a  crack  band- 
master. 

The  lady  with  him  is  a  chunky,  bunchy  little 
party  with  a  button  nose,  apple  tinted  cheeks, 
and  a  lot  of  worry  creases  across  her  forehead 
that's  worked  in  so  deep  no  face  massage  treat- 
ments could  ever  steam  'em  out.  There's  no 
tellin'  what  crossroads  emporium  fitted  her  out 
with  the  demihobble  costume  she  has  on;  but 
that,  and  the  freak  lid,  and  the  three  cunnin'  lit- 
tle curls  danglin'  just  behind  her  left  ear,  puts 
the  Podunk  sign  on  her  for  fair.  My  first  guess 
about  them  was  that  they'd  sold  out  the  sausage 
and  tripe  business  and  had  come  East  on  some 
round  trip  excursion. 

Guests  is  guests,  though;  so  Smoky  throws 
the  gate  for  'em.  They're  just  about  to  step  in 
cautious,  when  along  the  corridor  comes  sailin' 
an  entirely  different  pair, — a  clean  built,  swell 
dressed  young  chappy,  like  them  you  see  in  the 
collar  ads,  and  a  classy  lookin'  young  lady 
whose  costume  couldn't  have  left  Paris  more'n 
a  month  ago. 

Do  the  newcomers  wait  to  inspect  the  ele- 
vator or  inquire  if  it's  their  turn?  Not  much! 
Reggie  boy  swings  a  shoulder  in  front  of  the 
ex-sausage  maker,  brushes  the  demihobble  skirt 
one  side  with  his  stick,  hands  his  young  lady, 


PIDDIE  GETS  ONE  OFF  THE  BAT     183 

and  then  steps  in  himself.  It's  all  done  so 
snappy  that  the  crossroads  couple  are  left  with 
one  foot  in  the  air  and  their  mouths  open. 

"  Come,  come!  Lively,  now!  Going  down- 
n-n-n!  "  sings  out  the  lever  juggler,  rattlin'  the 
door  catch  peevish. 

Well,  they  look  kind  of  fussed  and  nervous; 
but  it's  plain  they  ain't  sure  whether  there's 
any  call  for  them  to  get  grouchy  or  not ;  so  in 
they  stumbles  and  sidles  off  into  the  corner 
without  a  word.  I  could  easy  have  felt  sore 
for  'em ;  but  what  was  the  use  when  it  would  be 
all  over  in  a  minute,  I  thinks,  and  the  five  of 
us  would  be  scatterin'  for  diff'rent  points, 
maybe  never  as  much  as  to  rub  elbows  again 
this  side  of  Kingdom  Come? 

You  never  can  bank  on  futures,  though,  can 
you,  even  when  you  can  count  the  tricks  on  your 
fingers?  Next  thing  we  know  the  elevator 
comes  to  a  sudden  stop  between  the  eleventh, 
and  twelfth  floors,  and  the  country  couple,  bein' 
handy  to  the  leather  bench,  and  not  being  braced 
for  anything  like  that,  sits  down  abrupt  and 
solid.  Then  for  a  minute  or  so  we  all  watches 
Smoky  jerk  the  handle  back  and  forth  without 
producin'  any  results,  and  then  I  thinks  it's  up 
to  me  to  break  the  silence. 

"  Bugged  the  gears  that  time,  eh?  "  I  re- 
marks. 


184  TRYING  OUT  TORCHY 

"  Nah!  "  says  he,  shruggin'  his  shoulders. 
"  Power's  gone." 

11  What's  that?  "  says  Eeggie,  speakin'  up 
sharp.  "  Why  don't  you  go  on,  Boy?  ' 

Maybe  it  was  the  tone  he  said  it  in,  or  maybe 
it  was  only  that  "  boy  "  on  the  end;  but  the 
brunette  youth  from  the  West  Indies  ain't  ready 
with  the  polite  response.  He  just  rolls  the 
whites  of  his  eyes  at  Reggie  and  then  turns  his 
back  on  him. 

"  I  say,  you!  "  insists  Reggie.  "  What  are 
we  stopping  here  for,  you  know?  Why  don't 
you  go  on?  ' 

"  Don't  you  hear,  Alfonso?  "  says  I.  "  Why 
don't  you  drop  us?  Can't  you  see  the  young 
gentleman's  in  a  hurry?  ' 

' '  Ah,  what  do  I  care  ?  ' '  grumbles  Smoky. 

"Well,  I  must  say!"  growls  Reggie,  tap- 
pin'  the  rubber  mat  with  his  stick  real  pettish. 
"  Is  not  this  annoying,  Gladys?  " 

11  It's  quite  too  absurd,  Pierpont,"  says 
Gladys. 

"  Now  I  guess  you'll  start  something!  "  says 
I  to  Alfonso. 

All  he  does,  though,  is  to  yell  down  the  shaft 
to  the  starter,  askin'  what's  happened  to  the 
power. 

"  Shut  off !  "  calls  back  the  starter.  "  The 
water's  been  shut  off." 


PIDDIE  GETS  ONE  OFF  THE  BAT     185 

"  What!  "  says  Pierpont.  "  Water  shut  off? 
What  for,  and  for  how  long?  " 

But  the  starter  don't  know.  He  says  he'll 
ask  the  engineer.  Two  minutes  more,  and  we 
has  the  satisfaction  of  hearin'  that  the  engineer 
don't  know. 

11  But,  see  here,  Starter,"  sings  out  Pierpont, 
"this  is  a  deuced  nuisance,  y'know!  It's  an 
outrage,  bah  Jove!  Send  for  the  manager. 
Tell  him  Mr.  E.  Pierpont  Boggs  wishes  to  see 
him." 

"Aha!"  says  I  on  the  side  to  Alfonso. 
"Now  some  one's  goin'  to  get  slapped  on  the 
wrist  for  this !  ' : 

But  Alfonso  don't  seem  worried  a  bit.  He 
climbs  up  on  his  stool  and  proceeds  to  dig  litera- 
ture out  of  his  pocket.  It's  one  of  them  Nick 
Carter  airship  yarns,  and  he  turns  eager  to 
page  three,  finds  his  place  by  a  thumbprint,  and 
from  then  on  is  as  much  out  of  range  of  all 
trouble  as  a  cat  sleepin'  on  a  sunny  window 
ledge. 

As  for  the  crossroads  pair,  they  ain't  opened 
their  heads,  even  to  swap  a  whisper ;  not  know- 
in',  I  expect,  whether  this  was  a  reg'lar  stunt 
of  high  priced  hotel  elevators  or  not.  And  me, 
I  leans  back  against  the  side  grating  and  tries 
to  whistle  something  soft  and  soothin'.  What's 
the  use  of  my  frettin'  when  Pierpont  was  doin* 
such  a  thorough  job  at  it?  He  don't  let  up  until 


186  TRYING  OUT  TOECHY 

he's  had  'em  rout  out  the  manager,  who  arrives 
at  the  tenth  floor  with  hardly  breath  enough 
left  to  talk. 

"  Eegret  very  deeply,"  he  puffs  out;  "  but 
we  can't  help  it,  Mr.  Boggs.  There's  been  a 
break  in  one  of  the  large  mains, — blasting 
caused  it,  I  understand, — and  the  city  depart- 
ment had  to  shut  off  the  water.  They've  just 
notified  us.  The  plungers  are  not  working,  you 
see;  but  the  safety  catches  are  holding  nicely. 
You  are  perfectly  secure,  you  know." 

"  Secure!  "  explodes  Pierpont.  "  I  should 
say  we  were !  It's  as  bad  as  being  in  jail.  And 
I  don't  like  it!" 

The  manager,  he  apologizes  all  over  again. 

"  But  how  long  will  it  be  before  the  water 
is  turned  on  again?  "  asks  Pierpont. 

"  Oh,  not  more  than  an  hour  or  so — two  at 
the  most,"  says  the  manager,  which  brings  a 
howl  out  of  Pierpont. 

"  Two  hours!  "  says  he.  "  But  we  cawn't 
do  it,  you  know,  we  simply  cawn't!  We — er — I 
have  a  very  important  engagement,  and  our— 
er — my  train  leaves  at  four  o'clock.  Don't  you 
understand?  You  must  get  us  out  of  here  at 
once!  " 

Yes,  the  manager  says  he  understands.  He's 
sent  for  the  elevator  people,  told  'em  to  bring 
ropes  and  tools  and  so  on,  and  he's  sure  they'll 
do  their  best  when  they  arrive.  Also  he  says 


PIDDLE  GETS  ONE  OFF  THE  BAT     181 

it's  too  bad  we  got  caught  just  as  we  did;  for 
they'd  got  the  folks  out  of  all  the  other  eleva- 
tors, except  one  fat  woman  who  was  stuck  in 
Number  Three  and  couldn't  be  lifted  through 
a  two-foot  crack.  They'd  passed  her  in  some 
luncheon,  though,  and  she  wa'n't  making  any 
fuss. 

But  that  don't  calm  Pierpont.  He  keeps 
right  on  gettin'  wrathy.  "  Think  of  it, 
Gladys!  "  says  he. 

' '  It 's  simply  dreadful !  ' '  says  Gladys. 
"  And  what  are  we  going  to  do  about — " 

"  S-s-sh!  "  says  Pierpont.  ''We  will  do 
something,  I  don't  know  what.  I  must  think. 
And  here  we  are,  shut  up  with  these  persons !  " 

11  Ah,  say,"  says  I,  "  I  guess  if  we  can  stand 
it,  you  can.  It  works  both  ways,  Pierpy." 

"  Humph!  "  says  he,  givin'  me  the  icy  stare 
for  a  second. 

"  Not  so  rough,  Pierpont,  not  so  rough!  " 
says  I.  "  There's  ladies  present." 

Then  the  sausage  maker  clears  his  throat  and 
remarks,  sort  of  husky  and  embarrassed, 
"  Don't  the  lady  want  to  sit  down?  " 

11  She  does  not!  "  speaks  up  Pierpont,  glanc- 
in'  scornful  at  the  plaid  suit. 

Course,  they  was  an  odd  pair,  the  two  on  the 
bench,  and  if  I  was  pickin'  folks  to  be  shut  up 
with  in  an  elevator  I  don't  know  as  I'd  tagged 
these  partic'lar  ones  myself;  but  I  couldn't  see 


188  TRYING  OUT  TOBCHY 

where  they'd  earned  any  such  blackballin' 
process  as  Pierpont  was  handin'  'em.  The  fact 
that  they  was  way  station  delegates  travelin'  a 
little  out  of  their  class  was  plain  enough.  They 
knew  it  and  acted  it,  and  what  was  the  sense  of 
rubbin'  it  in?  So  when  this  crisp  comeback  is 
shot  over,  and  I  see  how  it  makes  the  gent 
wince,  I  has  to  butt  in. 

"  Gee!  "  says  I,  winkin'  over  at  the  tourist 
pair,  "  but  some  folks  is  exclusive,  ain't  they?  " 

All  they  did,  though,  was  to  grin  sort  of 
sheepish;  while  Pierpont  and  Gladys,  to  show 
how  far  beneath  their  notice  we  were,  resumes 
the  debate  over  their  private  affairs  just  as 
though  they  was  all  alone. 

First  off  I  thought  they  must  be  married; 
but  later  on  I  wa'n't  so  sure.  Seems  Pierpont 
has  been  sent  for  to  go  West  in  a  hurry  on  some 
business  or  other,  and  he'd  planned  for  Gladys 
to  go  part  way  with  him.  Then  they'd  stop  off 
and  see  her  mother  about  something  important, 
and  after  that  the  programme  was  vague. 

Anyway,  this  elevator  holdup  was  puttin'  the 
crisscross  on  his  plans  something  awful,  and  the 
longer  it  lasted  the  worse  things  was  being 
mussed  up. 

And  as  there  wa'n't  room  for  more'n  one 
steady  conversation  in  that  eight  by  ten  car, 
the  rest  of  us  stood  one  side  and  played  thinkin' 
parts.  We  gave  Pierpont  room  to  pace  back 


PIDDLE  GETS  ONE  OFF  THE  BAT     189 

and  forth,  and  every  once  in  awhile,  when  he 
consulted  his  watch,  we  held  our  breath. 
Fin'lly,  as  it  gets  to  be  three  o'clock  and  there's 
no  signs  of  our  being  let  out,  he  announces  to 
Gladys  that  he's  made  up  his  mind  to  a  new 
deal. 

"  Why  not  now,"  says  he,  "  before  we 
start?  " 

"  To-day!  "  gasps  Gladys. 

11  Yes,  providing  they  ever  get  us  out  of  this 
trap,"  says  Pierpont.  "  There's  a  train  at 
eight.  We'll  take  that." 

"  But  Mother!  "  says  Gladys. 

11  She  needn't  know  now,"  says  Pierpont. 
1 '  We  can  tell  her  later,  when  I  come  back  after 
you.  Come,  what's  the  difference!  " 

Well,  say,  if  their  idea  was  that  we  couldn't 
guess  what  sort  of  move  they  was  debatin', 
they  didn't  give  us  credit  for  being  more'n 
half  awake.  As  a  rule  folks  don't  plot  out 
secret  weddings  so  open,  except  on  the  stage; 
but  this  was  a  special  occasion.  Either  they 
didn't  care  if  we  knew,  or  else  they'd  sized  us 
up  for  dead  wires.  And  I  could  see  the  Podunk 
lady  gettin'  int 'rested  by  the  minute. 

11  Well?  "  insists  Pierpont,  in  that  high 
handed  way  of  his.  "  Why  not?  " 

With  her  veil  pushed  back  and  her  big  brown 
eyes  showin'  how  deep  and  serious  she  was 
takin'  it,  Gladys  looked  more  human  than  she 


190  TRYING  OUT  TORCHY 

had  before.  Nice  girl  she  was  too,  and  not 
more'n  nineteen,  I  should  judge.  Anyway,  she 
looked  young. 

"  Why,"  says  she,  "  why— I— I—  Oh,  Pier- 
pont,  I  don't  know  what  to  say!  ' 

With  that  she  glances  around,  sort  of  help- 
less and  appealing  until  she  comes  to  the  lady 
sausage  maker  on  the  seat.  She  hadn't  said  a 
word,  this  party  with  the  curls;  but  she'd 
leaned  forward,  and  there  was  a  kind  of  moth- 
erly, sympathizin '  look  on  her  homely  face  that 
you  couldn't  mistake.  She'd  forgot  about  how 
she'd  been  snubbed,  and  all  that.  She  was  just 
a  woman  watchin'  a  girl. 

A  whole  minute,  it  seemed  like,  they  held  the 
pose,  and  then —  Well,  I  don't  know  which  of 
us  was  most  jarred,  me  or  Pierpont  or  the  deco- 
rated Rube,  but  the  next  act  is  that  all  of  a 
sudden  Gladys  digs  up  a  deep  sob,  and  then 
throws  herself  on  her  knees  with  her  head  in 
the  Podunk  lady's  lap. 

They're  great  on  dippy  moves,  these  high 
strung  young  ladies;  but  this  was  one  of  the 
quickest  form  reversals  I'd  ever  seen.  It  only 
takes  a  second,  though,  for  the  Podunk  party 
to  get  her  breath. 

"  Yes,  I  know  just  how  you  feel,  Deary," 
says  she,  pattin'  Gladys  on  the  shoulder.  "  I 
was  your  age  myself  once,  and  my  Minnie 'd 
been  just  about  the  same  if  she'd  lived.  That's 


PIDDIE  GETS  ONE  OFF  THE  BAT     191 

right,  cry  it  out.  You'll  feel  better  after,  and 
you'll  know  what  you  ought  to  do." 

"  Oh,  but  I  don't  know  what  to  do!  "  sobs 
Gladys.  "  I  don't,  I  don't!  And  I— I  can't 
tell  you  about  it!  " 

' '  There,  there !  ' '  says  the  other.  * '  I  can 
guess,  Deary.  He  has  to  go  away  and  leave 
you;  so  he  wants  to  be  married  first  and  have 
you  keep  it  quiet  until  he  can  come  back.  Ain't 
that  it,  now?  "  . 

'*  Ye-e-e-es,"  says  Gladys.  "  And  I  would  if 
it  wasn't  for  hiding  it  from  Mother.  She  has 
been  on  our  side  all  along,  you  know,  and  I'm 
sure  Father  will  come  around  in  time,  when  he 
gets  to  know  Pierpont  better.  I  don't  care  so 
much  about  keeping  it  from  him;  but — but 
there's  Mother." 

"  Yes,  yes,"  says  the  Podunk  lady.  "I'm 
glad  you  feel  that  way  about  your  mother,  too. 
As  long  as  you  do,  I  guess  you'll  be  all  right. 
So  don't  worry." 

"Oh,  I  say,  Gladys!"  protests  Pierpont, 
who's  been  viewin'  this  new  groupin'  astonished 
and  some  indignant. 

"  Better  let  the  women  settle  it  their  own 
way,"  says  the  sausage  man,  steppin'  to  the 
front  and  jerkin'  his  thumb  at  the  clinched 
parties.  "  And  have  a  cigar." 

"  Beg  pardon,"  says  Pierpont,  drawin'  him- 
self up  stiff,  "  but  I  don't  know  you,  sir." 


192  TRYING  OUT  TOECHY 

11  I  can  fix  that  easy,"  says  the  other  gent. 
"  My  name's  Shaeffer,  and  that's  Mrs.  Shaeffer 
over  there." 

"  Really?  "  says  Pierpont  sarcastic. 

"  If  you've  ever  traveled  much  west  of  St. 
Jo,"  goes  on  Shaeffer,  "  you've  seen  the  name 
plenty  of  times, — Shaeffer 's  Bread,  that's  us. 
Louisa  and  me,  we  started  out  twenty  years 
ago  to  make  the  first  hundred  loaves  of  Shaef- 
fer's  bread.  We  hired  a  little  store  on  a  side 
street,  did  the  baking  ourselves,  tended  counter, 
and  delivered  in  a  basket.  Maybe  you  wouldn't 
count  it  much  to  be  proud  of,  but  we  made 
mighty  good  bread.  If  we  hadn't,  how  could  we 
sell  out  our  chain  of  bakeries  in  seven  cities,  and 
get  half  a  million  just  for  the  name  and  good 
will?  Shaeffer 's  Bread,  see!  But  we're 
through.  I'm  in  mines  now." 

"  Mines?  "  says  Pierpont,  straightenin '  out 
the  curl  in  his  upper  lip  and  gettin'  some  in- 
t 'rested. 

"  Yes,  sir,"  says  Shaeffer.  "  Gold,  silver, 
copper,  zinc — I  don't  know  what  else.  Some  of 
'em  pay  and  some  of  'em  don't;  but  I  guess  the 
net  income  figures  up  on  the  right  side.  Shaef- 
fer luck.  Anyway,  we  ain't  bothering.  We've 
made  up  our  minds  just  to  travel  around  and 
enjoy  ourselves.  Ain't  so  much  fun,  after  all, 
I  tell  Louisa.  First  time  we've  run  up  against 


PIDDIE  GETS  ONE  OFF  THE  BAT     193 

this,  though,"  and  he  waves  his  hand  at  the 
blank  elevator  wall. 

Meanwhile  Mrs.  Shaeffer  and  Gladys  has 
been  talkin'  low  and  confidential,  and  just  as 
Pierpont  is  acceptin'  one  of  the  ex-baker's 
cigars,  Louisa  breaks  out  with: 

'  *  Hey,  Fritz,  don 't  we  own  some  of  that  June 
Bug  stock?  " 

"  Some!  "  says  Fritz.  "  Why,  we  got  con- 
trol of  that,  Mother.  Don't  you  remember? 
That's  the  mine  Hank  Nutter  brought  us  the 
assay  reports  on,  and  we  bought  in  so's  to  put 
him  in  charge.  He's  developin'  that  new  lead, 
you  know." 

"  I  forgot,"  says  Louisa;  "  but  if  Hank  Nut- 
ter's in  charge  that  makes  it  easy.  You  see, 
Fritz,  this  young  man's  just  been  hired  as 
mining  engineer  there,  and  he's  due  to  go  to 
work  at  the  June  Bug  next  Monday  morning. 
It's  his  first  job  since  he  left  college,  and  if  he 
makes  good —  Well,  all  this  young  lady's 
father  has  against  him  is  that  he's  never  done 
anything. ' ' 

' '  Oh,  he  '11  make  good,  all  right, ' '  says  Fritz. 
"  I'll  bank  on  that.  Wants  to  get  hooked  up 
before  he  starts,  does  he?  Well,  why  not?  " 

"  Thank  you,"  says  Pierpont,  shovin'  out  the 
grateful  palm. 

"  Now  you  shut  up,  Fritz!  ':  says  Mrs. 
Shaeffer.  "  What  do  you  know  about  such 


194  TRYING  OUT  TORCHY 

things,  anyway?  Oh,  you  men!  A  runaway 
match  kept  secret  is  all  right  for  you,  of  course ; 
but  what  about  the  girl — and  the  girl 's  mother  ? 
Now  Miss  Gladys  is  thinking  about  her 
mother." 

Well,  it  seemed  Mother  was  visitin'  in  Buf- 
falo. She'd  never  had  any  strong  objection  to 
Pierpont  herself,  but  was  only  backin'  Father's 
gen'ral  proposition  that  a  young  college  gent, 
even  if  he  was  due  to  inherit  property,  ought 
to  make  a  showdown  on  the  grub  earnin'  line 
before  askin'  any  girl  to  marry  him. 

"  But  haven't  I  a  year's  contract?  "  says 
Pierpont.  "  Of  course,  the  salary  wouldn't  be 
enough  for  us  to  live  on  in  New  York;  but  if 
Gladys  will  wait  until — " 

"  Say,"  breaks  in  Fritz,  "  how  would  the 
young  lady  like  a  year  at  June  Bug  Camp  ?  It 
ain't  so  rough,  and  there's  a  good  frame  house 
out  there,  and — " 

"  Oh,  I'd  love  it,"  says  Gladys,  "  if— if  we 
could  let  Mother  know  beforehand." 

"  Why  can't  you?  "  says  Mrs.  Shaeffer. 
"  Oh,  the  young  man's  job?  Well,  Fritz,  you 
just  wire  out  to  Hank  Nutter  that  the  new  en- 
gineer will  be  two  or  three  days  late,  and  to 
treat  him  right  when  he  comes.  That  will  give 
time  for  you  young  people  to  go  up  to  Buffalo, 
fix  it  all  up  with  Mother,  and  have  a  proper 
wedding. ' ' 


PIDDIE  GETS  ONE  OFF  THE  BAT     195 

* '  By  George !  ' '  says  Pierpont,  real  enthusi- 
astic. 

"  Would  you  come  with  us?  "  asks  Gladys, 
holding  out  both  hands  to  Mrs.  Shaeffer. 

"  Me?  "  says  Louisa,  reddenin'  up.  "  Why, 
you  wouldn't  want  anybody  like  us  to — to — '* 

*  *  We  just  would !  ' '  says  Pierpont,  cordial 
and  hearty.  "  You're  genuine  bricks,  and  we 
should  like  nothing  better  than  to — " 

"  H-e-e-e-e-y!  "  comes  a  voice  bellowin'  up 
the  elevator  shaft.  "  Why  in  blazes  don't  you 
bring  that  car  down?  Power's  been  on  this  five 
minutes." 

At  which  silent  Alfonso  tears  his  eyes  re- 
luctant from  page  twenty-seven  of  the  airship 
tale,  piles  off  his  stool,  and  grabs  the  startin* 
lever. 

So  it's  three-forty-five  when  I  drifts  into  the 
Corrugated  and  finds  Piddie  waitin'  with  one 
eye  on  the  clock  and  a  look  of  triumph  on  his 
face. 

11  Aha!  "  says  he.  "  Just  as  I  thought!  I 
presume  you  have  concocted  some  plausible  ex- 
cuse for  this  outrageous  delay?  " 

"  Sure  thing,"  says  I.  "  First  off  I  was 
kidnaped  by  the  city  water  department,  and 
while  that  was  takin'  place  I  was  entertained 
by  seem'  two  of  the  upper  clawsses  revise  their 
notions  about  a  pair  of  full  jeweled  jays  from 
the  Middle  West.  Does  that  get  by,  or  do  I  go 


196  TRYING  OUT  TOECHY 

on  the  carpet  for  court  martial  before  the  real 
boss!  " 

"  Humph!  "  says  Piddle,  turnin'  on  his  heel 
and  walkin'  off. 

And  I  bet  he  loses  sleep  to-night  tryin'  to 
figure  out  whether  I'm  guilty  of  mutiny,  or  was 
just  slippin'  over  the  usual  josh. 


CHAPTER  XII 

A  LATE  SCORE  FOB  VANDY 

WELL,  well!  Am  I  a  Mr.  Fixit  or  not?  Say, 
if  you  got  any  secret,  gnawin'  ambitions  burn- 
in'  away  under  your  vest,  come  around  some 
afternoon  when  I  ain't  rushed,  and  I'll  dope 
out  a  scheme  for  stencilin'  your  name  on  the 
walls  of  Fame  so  it'll  look  like  a  soap  ad  on  a 
new  barn. 

Anyway,  you  can  ask  J.  Vanderbeck  Smith. 
Course,  I'll  admit  part  of  that  was  due  to  a 
lucky  break,  and  maybe  I  ain't  got  any  cue  to 
get  chesty  over  it  at  all ;  but  someway  it  tickles 
me  a  lot. 

And  you'd  think,  after  takin'  one  glance  at 
J.  Vanderbeck,  that  he'd  be  the  last  man  in  the 
world  to  need  a  boost  from  anyone,  let  alone 
any  such  a  two  by  four  as  me.  Honest,  he 's  so 
big  and  important  lookin'  that  I  ain't  figured 
out  even  now  how  it  was  he  ever  escaped  bein' 
made  a  Senator,  or  a  General,  or  a  life  insur- 
ance president.  You  know — one  of  these  deep 
chested,  wide  shouldered,  heavyweight  Adonis 
parties,  with  a  big,  serious  face,  and  a  ponder- 
ous, dignified  way  of  movin'  that  almost  makes 

197 


198  TRYING  OUT  TOECHY 

you  hold  your  breath  while  he's  passin'  a  given 
point.  He's  the  kind  of  gent  that  folks  will 
turn  to  gawp  at  in  a  crowd  and  ask  each  other 
who  he  is.  Dresses  the  part  well,  too, — cream 
colored  spats,  frock  coat,  and  silk  tile,  with  a 
pink  carnation  always  in  his  buttonhole. 

Oh,  he's  a  dream  J.  Vanderbeck  Smith  is, 
and  when  he  shows  up  you  look  around  to  see 
where's  the  reception  committee,  or  what's  de- 
layed the  band.  But,  say,  sad  to  relate,  that's 
as  far  as  it  goes.  J.  Vanderbeck  ain't  even  in 
the  also-ran  class.  He  ain't  so  much  as  a  has- 
been.  He's  a  never-waser.  Uh-huh!  Took  me 
a  long  time  to  get  over  the  shock  myself,  and  I 
had  to  have  it  straight  from  headquarters  be- 
fore I'd  believe  it. 

"  Say,  Mr.  Ellins,"  says  I,  rushin'  into  the 
private  office  the  first  time  J.  Vanderbeck 
dropped  into  the  Corrugated  after  I'd  been  put 
on  the  gate,  "  I  guess  the  main  guy  himself  has 
come  to  town.  Here's  his  card.  Incog,  ain't 
he?  " 

And  Old  Hickory,  after  glancin'  at  the  name, 
only  laughs  and  says,  "  Oh,  Vandy  Smith! 
Well,  I'm  not  busy  just  now.  You  may  let 
him  in." 

Course,  that  should  have  been  enough  to  give 
me  his  number;  but,  believe  me,  it  was  months 
before  I  could  get  over  the  habit  of  jumpin'  up 
and  throwin'  the  gate  wide  open  when  he  stalks 


A  LATE  SCOEE  FOE  VANDY      199 

in.  When  I  discovers,  though,  that  Vandy's 
only  a  dummy  director,  shoved  into  the  board 
on  the  strength  of  his  holdin'  a  small  block  of 
shares  and  bein'  a  kind  of  third  cousin  to  Mr. 
Ellins,  I  begins  to  get  wise  to  what  a  joke  he  is. 

Seems  that  J.  Vanderbeck's  steady  job  in  life 
is  to  draw  quarterly  dividends,  serve  on  club 
committees,  and  keep  his  tailor  busy.  Along 
with  the  name  of  Smith  he'd  inherited  a  tin 
box  in  some  safety  deposit  vaults,  and  he'd  let 
it  go  at  that. 

Near  as  I  could  figure  out,  work  and  him  was 
total  strangers,  and  so  far  as  I  could  see  his 
life  was  about  as  useful  and  animated  as  if  he'd 
been  a  potted  palm  in  some  hotel  lobby.  After 
I  got  to  know  him  well  I  used  to  wonder  if  he 
had  any  real  thoughts,  and  what  they  was  like. 

But,  say,  you  can't  always  tell,  can  you? 
Here  the  other  forenoon  Vanderbeck  surprises 
me  by  showin'  up  at  the  Corrugated  about  ten 
o'clock,  and  I'd  never  known  him  to  drift  in 
earlier  than  eleven-thirty  before. 

"Tut,  tut!"  says  I.  "  Beatin'  the  time- 
card,  ain't  you?  Or  is  it  just  a  case  of  stayin* 
up  so  late  it  was  too  early  to  go  to  bed?  " 

1  Beastly  fire  next  door  to  the  club,"  says  he. 
"  Routed  me  out,  you  know.  Mr.  Ellins 
down?  " 

"  Nix,"  says  I.  "  He's  a  little  behind 
schedule;  but  I'm  goin'  to  give  him  ten  minutes 


200  TRYING  OUT  TOKCHY 

more  before  I  dock  him.  Maybe  you'd  better 
walk  in  and  take  charge  until  he  comes,  Mr. 
Smith." 

"  Ah,  thanks,"  says  Vandy,  never  even 
crackin '  a  smile. 

Not  that  I  was  wastin'  all  this  josh  on  him; 
for  I'd  tried  out  Vandy 's  sense  of  humor  be- 
fore, and  knew  that  where  the  funny  bump 
ought  to  be  there  was  a  hollow  you  could  lay 
an  egg  in.  I  was  just  shootin'  it  out  for  the 
benefit  of  Piddie,  who  was  flubbin'  around  with 
his  ear  stretched,  as  usual.  And  when  Piddie 
hears  me  invite  Vandy  to  take  charge  of  the 
business  he  gasps  so  you  could  hear  him  all 
over  the  shop. 

We  was  just  in  the  midst  of  a  lovely  debate, 
Piddie  and  me,  and  he  was  handin'  out  a  line 
of  reproof  that  should  have  had  me  hangin'  my 
head  and  chewin'  my  tongue,  I  expect;  only  it 
didn't,  for  I  was  just  suggestin'  that  if  he 
knew  as  much  about  his  job  as  he  thought  he 
did  about  mine,  they  ought  to  double  his  salary 
— when  the  door  is  yanked  open  and  slammed 
shut  again,  and  in  pads  Old  Hickory,  his  eyes 
blazin'  sparks  and  his  fists  doubled,  and  his 
neck  and  ears  about  the  color  of  a  bunch  of 
grapes. 

"  Boy!  "  he  roars.  "  Go  down  in  the  ar- 
cade and  find  that  special  officer!  Bring  him 
up  here  at  once!  " 


A  LATE  SCORE  FOE  VANDY      201 

"  Yes,  Sir,"  says  I,  jumpin'  lively.  "  Need 
the  reg'lar  cop  out  front  too,  Sir?  " 

"  No,  Daley  will  do,"  lie  snaps.  "  Tell  him 
I'll  make  the  charge.  I've  been  followed, 
threatened,  insulted!  The  scoundrel's  waiting 
outside!  Quick,  now!  " 

"  Right,  Sir,"  says  I,  slidin'  through  the 
door  and  makin'  such  a  dash  for  the  elevator 
that  I  bunks  into  a  short,  thick  set  party  good 
and  hard. 

11  Oh,  you  will,  will  you?  "  says  he,  and  the 
next  thing  I  knows  I'm  about  to  get  a  solid 
lookin '  leather  covered  box  a  foot  square  swung 
at  my  head.  But  my  luck  still  held.  The  swing 
was  never  finished.  Instead,  the  gent  puts  down 
the  box  and  gawps  at  me  astonished. 

"Well,  I'll  be  ditched!"  says  he. 
"  Torchy!  " 

"  Gee!  "  says  I.  "  Snap  Collins!  But  why 
the  assault  and  battery  motions?  " 

"  Took  you  for  the  official  bouncer  making 
a  flying  tackle,"  says  he.  "  What's  the  rush 
order,  anyway?  " 

"  Cop!  "  says  I,  steppin'  over  to  press  the 
button.  "  Ah,  where 's  that  car  in  No.  4  chute? 
Hey,  up  there  on  Floor  22!  Think  I'm  ringin' 
this  bell  just  to  hear  the  tinkle?  Wake  up !  " 

"  Cop,  eh?  "  says  Snap.  "  Who's  the  plain- 
tiff? " 

"  The  big  boss,  Mr.  Ellins,"  says  I.    "  Case 


202  TRYING  OUT  TORCHY 

of  sandbaggin',  or  something  like  that.     Sayt 
what  you  grinnin'  at,  Snap?  ' 

"  Nothing  much,"  says  he;  "  only  it's  for  me 
you're  collecting  the  cop.  That's  funny,  ain't 
it?  " 

"  Go  on !  "  says  I.  "  What  could  you  be  doin* 
to — "  And  then  I  got  a  glimmer.  "  Honest, 
Snap,"  I  goes  on,  "  was  that  all?  Just  tryin' 
to  mug  him?  " 

"  That's  the  whole  of  it,"  says  Snap.  "  And 
I  was  conducting  the  negotiations  as  polite  and 
genteel  as  I  knew  how,  with  him  dodging  around 
and  cussing  me  like  I  was  some  strong  arm 
artist  trying  to  lift  his  leather.  My!  but  some 
of  these  plutes  are  peevish !  And  now  he  wants 
me  pinched,  eh?  Well,  go  on,  Torchy.  My  peo- 
ple will  get  me  out  by  night,  I  guess,  if  they 
aren't  too  busy.  Blaze  away!  ' 

"  You  was  doin'  it  on  order,  I  expect,  eh, 
Snap?  "  says  I,  wavin'  for  the  elevator  to  go  on 
down. 

"  Sure,"  says  he.  "A  must,  too.  Got  to  get 
the  negative  in  for  the  afterndon  editions." 

"  What's  the  scandal?  "  says  I. 

"  It's  in  all  the  morning  papers,"  says  he. 
"  Your  boss  has  turned  down  a  subpoena  from 
the  Senate's  special  investigating  committee — 
told  'em  to  go  plump  to  blazes.  So  all  the  city 
editors  in  town  are  howling  for  a  double 
column  of  his  map  to  go  on  the  front  page.  I've 


A  LATE  SCORE  FOE  VANDY      203 

been  laying  for  him  for  two  hours;  but  all  I've 
accumulated  so  far  is  a  quarter  view  of  him 
getting  out  of  the  limousine.  He  was  onto  me, 
though,  and  proceeds  to  raise  a  riot.  But  it's 
funny  you  should  be  the  one  to  go  for  the  cop. 
Well?  " 

There  it  was,  batted  up  to  me  fair  and  square. 
And,  say,  if  it  had  been  any  other  camera  jug- 
gler in  the  business,  I  wouldn't  have  hung  back 
a  minute.  But  Snap  Collins !  Why,  we  used  to 
be  on  the  Sunday  edition  together,  and  it  was 
him  stood  off  that  crazy  Ed  Miller,  who  wanted 
to  choke  me  for  losin'  a  page  of  his  bloomin' 
copy.  Just  swung  up  a  wooden  bottomed  desk 
chair,  Snap  did,  and  advised  Miller  if  he  didn't 
want  an  extra  crack  or  two  in  his  skull  to  keep 
his  hands  off.  And  Miller  weighin'  a  hundred 
and  ninety-five  and  assistant  Sunday  editor  be- 
sides! Course,  Snap  got  the  chuck  for  that, 
and  all  I  could  do  was  grind  my  teeth  at  Miller 
every  time  he  went  by. 

11  What's  the  use,  Snap?"  says  I.  "You 
know  I  ain't  sickin'  any  cops  onto  you.  Wait 
here  a  minute." 

With  that  I  goes  back  through  the  gen'ral 
offices  and  into  Old  Hickory's  private  room. 

"  Did  you  get  Daley!  "  says  he. 

"  I  didn't  try,"  says  I. 

"  Eh?  What's  that!  "  he  snorts.  "  You 
didn't—" 


204  TRYING  OUT  TOBCHY 

"  I  can't,  Mr.  Ellins,"  says  I.  "  That  pic- 
ture  man  out  there  is  Snap  Collins,  and  he's  a 
friend  of  mine." 

"  Ha !  He  is,  eh?  "  bellows  Old  Hickory,  and 
for  a  second  or  two  the  way  he  glares  at  me 
gives  me  chills  down  the  back.  Honest,  I've 
had  to  bluff  through  lively  scenes  now  and  then, 
and  once  or  twice  I've  been  so  scared  inside  it's 
a  wonder  I  didn't  turn  a  permanent  pea  green; 
but  I  never  felt  my  knees  quite  so  wabbly  be- 
fore. 

I  should  have  known  better,  though.  Old 
Hickory  ain't  any  welsher  himself,  and  the  few 
friends  he  has  he  sticks  by  through  thick  and 
thin.  So  after  that  first  blast  he  simmers  down 
a  little,  and  pretty  quick  he  gives  them  heavy 
shoulders  of  his  a  sudden  hunch. 

"  Huh!  "  he  growls.  "  Then  under  those 
circumstances,  I  suppose,  I  must — well,  send  in 
Mr.  Piddie." 

"  Thanks,  Mr.  Ellins,"  says  I.  "I  knew 
you'd  see  how  it  was.  And  if  you'll  excuse  my 
sayin'  so,  it  ain't  any  use  to  go  on.  Snap  Col- 
lins is  bound  to  get  you." 

"  Eh?  "  says  Old  Hickory.  "  Do  you  mean 
to  tell  me,  Boy,  that  I  must  submit  to  being 
photographed  by  any  scousy,  low  browed, 
snooping  footpad  who  takes  it  into  his  head 
to—" 

"  Say,"  I  breaks  in,  "  you  don't  get  the  idea, 


A  LATE  SCOEE  FOE  VANDY      205 

Mr.  Ellins.  Snap  don't  want  your  portrait  to 
put  over  his  mantel,  or  to  wear  in  a  locket.  And 
he  ain't  out  on  any  picnic  excursion,  either. 
It's  his  job.  And  behind  him  is  every  news- 
paper in  town,  and  papers  in  a  thousand  other 
towns,  all  howlin'  for  a  picture  of  you.  Snap 
ain't  to  blame  for  that.  He's  just  out  earnin' 
his  board  money,  same  as  most  of  us  is.  And  in 
his  way  he's  a  hummer,  too." 

"  Really?  "  remarks  Old  Hickory,  liftin'  his 
eyebrows  sarcastic. 

"  That's  what!  "  says  I.  "  Maybe  he  ain't 
very  ornamental  or  imposin'  to  look  at,  and  you 
wouldn't  want  to  know  a  milder  or  cheerfuller 
party  when  he's  off  duty;  but,  say,  send  him 
out  with  a  seven  by  nine  and  orders  to  bring 
back  so  and  so,  and  I  want  to  tell  you  that  Snap 
Collins '11  face  anything,  from  machine  guns  to 
grizzly  bears.  He'll  rush  that  camera  of  his 
into  the  thick  of  a  strike  riot  where  they're 
usin'  brickbats  and  nightsticks  reckless,  or  he'll 
smuggle  it  into  a  cathedral  and  take  a  flashlight 
of  a  pontifical  mass  without  any  permit.  And 
smooth!  Well,  who  else  could  have  talked 
Hetty  Green  into  givin'  a  private  sitting  but 
him?  " 

"  So  I  suppose,"  comments  Old  Hickory, 
"  that  I  should  allow  him  to  hold  me 
up  right  on  Broadway  and  take  my  picture, 
eh?  " 


206  TRYING  OUT  TORCHY 

"  Didn't  he  say  anything  about  coming  up?  " 
says  I. 

"  Didn't  he?  "  snarls  Mr.  Ellins.  "  I  should 
say  he  did !  Had  the  confounded  impudence  to 
suggest  that  I  let  him  take  me  at  my  desk — here, 
in  my  private  office !  ' ' 

"  Well,  that's  the  way  he  gen 'rally  works 
it,"  says  I.  "  He'll  make  a  good  one,  too.  And 
if  you  don't  let  him  do  that  he'll  have  to  turn 
in  a  chance  shot,  and  they'll  throw  it  up  to  four 
times  the  size  in  the  office,  and  paint  out  the 
background,  and  line  in  the  eyes,  and  by  the 
time  they  get  through  they'll  have  something 
that'll  look  a  little  like  you,  but  more  like  an 
exhibit  from  the  morgue.  But  they'll  print  it, 
from  here  to  Texas  and  back  again,  with  your 
name  under  it." 

And  I  will  say  this  for  Old  Hickory,  that  for 
all  his  tabasco  temper  and  chesty  ways,  he  don't 
go  around  with  his  ears  plugged.  He  ain't  so 
old  and  so  high  and  mighty  but  what  he's  willin' 
to  take  a  hunch  now  and  then.  He  was  listenin' 
now,  too. 

"  Rather  a  convincing  presentation  of  the 
case,  young  man,"  says  he.  "  Still,  it  almost 
seems  that,  if  I  can  defy  the  Congress  of  the 
United  States,  I  ought  to  have  enough  back- 
bone to — " 

"  Ah,  it  ain't  a  case  of  backbone,"  says  I. 
**  Course,  I  don't  know  what  them  dubs  in  Con- 


A  LATE  SCOEE  FOB  VANDY      207 

gress  will  do ;  but  you  can  bank  on  one  thing, — 
Snap  Collins  never  reports  back  without  some 
kind  of  a  negative." 

"  And  what  do  you  advise,  then?  "  says  Mr. 
Ellins,  winkin'  facetious  at  J.  Vanderbeck, 
who's  lookin'  wise  and  distinguished  over  by 
the  window. 

"  Why,"  says  I,  "  have  him  in  and  get  it  over 
with.  So  long  as  you've  got  to  go  on  exhibition, 
you  might  as  well  have  something  printed  that 
won't  scare  the  children.  If  you  say  so,  I'll 
have  him  rush  the  job  through. ' ' 

"  Well,  well!  "  sighs  Old  Hickory,  throwin* 
up  his  hands.  "  Do  it,  then.  Bring  on  Collins 
the  Undefeated.  I  can't  promise  to  suspend 
work,  and  if  he  doesn't  clear  out  inside  of  five 
minutes  I  may  throw  him  through  the  door. 
With  that  understanding,  let  him  in." 

All  this  time  I  hadn't  been  noticin'  J.  Van- 
derbeck much.  I'd  just  caught  a  glimpse  of 
him  over  the  desk,  listenin'  int 'rested.  But 
when  I'd  towed  Snap  in,  and  was  whisperin'  to 
him  urgent  to  shake  things  up,  I  notices  Vandy 
edgin'  over  into  the  center  of  the  stage. 

"  Excuse  me,"  says  Snap,  wavin'  him  off, 
w  but  I'm  about  to  make  an  exposure." 

"  Oh,  certainly,"  says  Vandy,  backin'  away 
sort  of  flustered.  "  Of  course  you  don't  want 
me  in  the  picture." 

"  Well,  this  isn't  a  group,  you  know,"  says 


208  TRYING  OUT  TOBCHY 

Snap.  "  Now,  if  you'll  hold  that  just  a  second, 
Mr.  Ellins — thanks.  All  over.  And  I'm  much 
obliged,  Sir." 

"  Get  out!  "  growls  Old  Hickory.  And  with 
a  grateful  grin  my  way  Snap  does  a  quick 
exit. 

"  There,  Vandy!  "  says  Mr.  Ellins.  "  You 
see  what  we're  coming  to, — mob  rule,  with  the 
yellow  press  urging  on  the  rabble.  And  I've  al- 
ways sworn  they  should  never  have  my  picture 
to  print!  " 

"  They  don't  bother  me  much  for  mine,"  re- 
marks Vandy.  And,  would  you  believe  it,  he 
heaves  a  deep  sigh  as  he  says  it? 

"  Yours!  "  remarks  Old  Hickory,  crisp  and 
cuttin'.  "  Now,  that's  odd,  isn't  it?  "  He 
throws  it  off  careless,  without  meanin'  much,  I 
expect;  but  it's  the  one  jab  I  ever  saw  get 
through  Vandy 's  skin.  You  could  see  him 
wince  under  it,  and  some  of  the  color  fades  out 
of  his  face. 

11  Oh,  I  know!  "  says  he  husky  and  bitter. 
"  I'm  a  nobody!  I've  fooled  away  my  life  sit- 
ting around  clubs  and  taking  things  easy.  I'n; 
a  bluff,  that's  all.  And  I  had  a  better  chance 
than  you  did  at  the  start,  Dave  Ellins.  Per- 
haps that  was  the  trouble.  I  didn't  have  to  do 
things,  and  you  did.  And  now  they  wouldn't 
print  my  picture  if  I  paid  them  for  doing  it, 
while  vou're  known  from  one  end  of  the  coun- 


A  LATE  SCORE  FOE  VANDY      209 

try  to  the  other,  and  they  send  men  chasing  you 
with  cameras !  ' ' 

Old  Hickory  stares  at  him  from  under  the 
bushy  eyebrows  for  a  minute,  sort  of  aston- 
ished and  puzzled,  and  then  he  remarks,  as 
soothin'  as  he  knows  how,  "  There,  there, 
Vandy!  Perhaps  you  haven't  missed  so  much, 
after  all." 

"  But  you  don't  know  what  it  is  to  be — the 
other  thing,"  says  J.  Vanderbeck,  chokin'  up 
and  startin'  for  the  door. 

And  Old  Hickory  only  shrugs  his  shoulders. 
* '  Huh !  "  he  grunts.  '  *  I  thought  I  knew  all 
there  was  to  know  of  Vandy,  too !  Here,  Boy, 
take  these  to  the  bond  room." 

Looked  like  another  odd  meeting-up  when 
that  same  afternoon  Mr.  Robert  sends  me  up  to 
the  Ellins  house  for  something  he'd  forgot  and 
I  finds  Snap  Collins  once  more,  settin'  up  his 
tripod  just  across  the  street.  But  it  wa'n't 
any  miracle. 

' '  Got  to  have  a  picture  of  the  Ellins  mansion 
for  the  morning  editions,"  explains  Snap, 
screwin'  on  the  big  plate  camera.  "  And,  say, 
Torchy,  this  is  the  part  of  the  game  that  gets 
my  goat." 

"  Why,  this  ought  to  be  a  cinch,"  says  I. 

"  That's  it,"  says  Snap.  "  Any  fool  re- 
porter could  do  this  well  enough.  But  no,  they 
must  send  me  packing  up  here  with  this  sixty- 


210  TRYING  OUT  TORCHY 

pound  gallery  outfit.  I'm  no  truck  horse,  you 
know.  Now,  I  don't  mind  trailing  down  people 
like  Mr.  Ellins, — there's  some  sport  in  that,— 
but  this  sort  of  thing!  Bah!  " 

"  Gee,  Snap!  "  says  I.  "I  never  knew  you 
was  a  grouch.  Have  you  told  'em  at  the  shop!  '' 

"  Have  If  "  says  he.  "  For  the  last  three 
years  I've  been  at  the  Syndicate  to  give  me  a 
chance  at  outside  work.  I  should  have  been  in 
on  that  Mexican  muss.  Say,  I'd  have  sent  in 
some  pictures  that  were  pictures!  And  look 
what  I've  missed  by  not  being  over  there  in 
North  Africa,  or  China!  What  have  we  been 
getting  from  that  China  affair,  anyway?  A  lot 
of  long  range  amateur  stuff  not  worth  cutting 
column  rules  for.  Say,  I'd  like  to  show  'em 
some  real  war  pictures.  I'd  get  in  behind  the 
guns,  and  show  'em  the  smoke,  and  the  blood, 
and  heaps  of  dead.  But  instead  of  that  I'm  kept 
plugging  around  New  York,  taking  fire  pictures, 
and  doing  such  work  as  this.  And  they  won't 
even  let  me  sign  my  stuff,  either!  " 

11  Sign  it!  "  says  I. 

"  Why  not!  "  demands  Snap.  "  Any  mut\, 
of  a  third  rate  magazine  illustrator  has  his 
autograph  scrawled  on  every  bum  picture  he 
draws,  don't  he?  And  the  punk  story  writers 
get  their  names  printed,  too.  But  me,  after 
I've  spent  years  learning  how  to  make  a  good 
news  picture  under  any  conditions  and  in  any 


A  LATE  SCORE  FOB  VANDY      211 

light,  and  maybe  risked  my  neck  to  get  where 
I  could  press  the  bulb,  I'm  not  even  allowed  to 
scratch  my  initials  on  the  plate.  Bah !  I  could 
ring  in  more  coin  running  a  postcard  joint  down 
at  Coney  Island.  Now  watch  me  shoot  the  El- 
lins  mansion!  Thrilling  cut  this  is  going  to 
make,  too — just  a  bare  house.  Not  even  any- 
body to  stand  on  the  front  steps." 

And  just  as  Snap  growls  that  out  I  sees  a 
familiar  figure  stroll  out  of  the  swell  clubhouse 
on  the  corner. 

"  Would  it  help  havin'  someone  on  the 
steps?  "  says  I. 

"  Of  course  it  would,"  says  he,  "if  it  was 
someone  that  looked  as  though  they  belonged 
there. ' ' 

"  Then  wait  a  minute,"  says  I.  "I  think  I 
can  play  this  two  ways  and  let  you  both  win. 
Hey,  Mr.  Smith!  " 

Sure,  it  was  Vandy  I'd  spotted.  No,  he 
didn't  mind  at  all  posin'  on  the  Ellins'  front 
steps.  All  he  was  curious  about  was  to  know 
where  the  picture  might  be  printed. 

11  Oh,  in  a  couple  of  hundred  papers,  all 
over,"  says  Snap.  "  And  it  adds  a  lot,  Mr. 
Smith,  to  have  someone  in  the  foreground; 
gives  the  human  touch,  you  know." 

"  I  see,"  says  Vandy.  "  Now,  how  will  this 
do— so?  " 

And,  say,  when  I  left  they  was  gettin'  real 


212  TRYING  OUT  TORCHY 

chummy.  I  had  to  grin,  too,  when  I  see  the 
cuts  in  the  mornin'  papers;  for  there's  J.  Van- 
derbeck  Smith,  lookin'  handsome  and  dis- 
tinguished, on  all  the  front  pages. 

* '  "Well,  he 's  got  his  wish  at  last !  ' '  thinks  I. 

But  that  ain't  all.  Almost  every  day  since 
then  he's  been  appearing — now  loomin'  up  in 
the  front  row  of  a  crowd  inspectin'  some  fire 
ruins,  then  showin'  in  the  corner  of  a  group 
surroundin'  some  distinguished  foreign  visi- 
tor, and  the  next  formin'  part  of  the  back- 
ground in  a  scene  where  the  President  is  layin' 
a  cornerstone. 

Talk  about  bein'  well  advertised!  "Why, 
there's  only  a  few  patent  medicine  doctors  and 
grand  opera  stars  that 's  got  anything  on  Vandy. 

I  got  so  excited  over  it  yesterday,  when  he  fig- 
ures in  two  diff  'rent  pictures,  that  I  has  to  call 
Snap  Collins  up  over  the  'phone  and  ask  him 
about  it. 

"  Got    it,    did    you?  "    says    Snap    gleeful. 

II  Say,  they're  all  getting  on.    And  it's  working 
fine.     They've  given  me  that  foreign  commis- 
sion, Torchy.    We're  starting  abroad  for  the 
scene  of  conflict  next  Wednesday." 

"  What  we?  "  says  I. 
"  Why,  me  and  Mr.  Smith,"  says  Snap. 
"  Vandy?  "  says  I.    "  What's  he  goin'  for?  " 
"  Why,  because  he  likes  it,  for  one  thing," 
says  Snap.    "  He's  going  to  write  a  book  about 


A  LATE  SCORE  FOB  VANDY      213 

it,  I  guess.     Besides,  I  need  him.     He's  my 
signature,  you  know." 

And,  say,  if  that  ain't  passin'  two  through  on 
the  same  rain  check,  what  is,  eh?  But  workin' 
in  Vandy  as  a  sig!  That  gets  mel 


CHAPTER 

TORCHY'S  BONEHEAD  HUNCH 

"  AH  !  what  do  you  want  for  eight  per,  a  spe- 
cial ambassador?  "  That  and  other  remarks 
along  the  same  line  was  what  I  had  a  good  no- 
tion to  hand  Mr.  Robert — only  I  didn't.  And, 
as  it  turned  out,  I  didn't  have  to. 

You  see,  it  was  all  on  account  of  his  allowin' 
business  to  interfere  with  his  social  duties.  So 
right  in  the  middle  of  a  busy  forenoon,  while 
he  was  dictatin'  letters  and  signin'  documents 
and  keepin'  a  directors'  meeting  waitin',  he 
suddenly  runs  across  something  in  the  mornin* 
mail  that  makes  him  drop  everything  else  and 
press  the  buzzer  for  me. 

"  Yes,  Sir?  "  says  I,  slidin'  in  and  winkin' 
respectful  at  the  lady  stenographer,  who's  got 
her  pencil  in  the  air. 

"  Torchy,"  says  he,  "  what  do  you  know 
about  buying  a  christening  present  for  a 
baby?  " 

"  Not  a  blamed  thing,"  says  I. 

'  *  I  can  hardly  believe  it, ' '  says  he.  ' '  Why,  I 
supposed  there  was  no  department  of  human 
knowledge  in  which  you  were  not — but  never 

214 


215 

mind  that  now.  I  want  you  to  go  out  and  buy 
one." 

"  Yes,  Sir,"  says  I,  givin'  the  prompt  salute. 

"Ah-h-h!':  says  he,  sighin'  relieved. 
"  That's  the  way  to  talk!  It's  for  the  Kent- 
Jackson  baby.  There's  the  address,  here's  a 
twenty-dollar  bill,  and  " — business  with-  the 
fountain  pen — "  here's  a  card  with  my  com- 
pliments. The  christening  is  at  five  this  after- 
noon. You  get  that  present  there  before  three, 
anyway. ' ' 

"  Sure  thing,"  says  I,  gatherin'  in  the 
twenty  and  the  card  and  startin'  out. 

"  But,  I  say,  Torchy,"  says  he,  just  as  I'm 
closin'  the  door,  "  what  do  you  think  of  get- 
ting? " 

"  Ain't  thought  yet,"  says  I.  "  Is  it  a  boy 
or  a  girl?  ' 

11  Boy,"  says  he. 

*  *  Cinch !  ' '  says  I.  * '  Gold  mounted  silk  sus- 
penders." 

The  lady  stenographer  gasps  and  near  has  a 
chokin'  fit. 

11  Well?  "  says  Mr.  Kobert  to  her.  "  Any 
suggestions?  ' 

"  Isn't  it  the  proper  thing,"  says  she,  "  to 
send  a  silver  mug,  or  a — " 

"  Mug  it  is,"  says  Mr.  Eobert.  "  Hear  that, 
Torchy?  Well,  get  a  good  one.  Have  it  en- 
graved K-J,  and  don't  deliver  it  to  a  servant, 


216  TRYING  OUT  TORCHY 

who  might  mislay  it.  Give  it  to  Mrs.  Kent- 
Jackson  herself." 

"  I  get  you,"  says  I,  makin'  a  break  before 
he  can  mess  up  the  sailin'  orders  with  more  de- 
tails; and,  without  stoppin'  to  ease  Mr.  Piddie's 
mind  as  to  why  I'm  quittin'  before  lunch,  I 
beats  it  for  the  express  elevator. 

Course,  I'm  wise  as  to  why  Mr.  Robert  is  in 
such  a  sweat  to  get  that  baby  present  in  on  time. 
It's  plain  he's  forgot  all  about  this  christenin' 
stunt,  and  the  baby  too,  most  likely ;  and  it  hap- 
pens that  Mr.  T.  Kent- Jackson,  besides  bein' 
one  of  our  big  customers,  is  a  club  chum  of  his. 
So  it  would  be  a  bad  break  for  him  to  pass 
up  the  young  heir  that  way.  Hence  the 
call  for  fair  haired  Claude  to  come  to  the 
rescue. 

Never  havin'  shopped  much  for  baby  mugs,  I 
wa'n't  dead  sure  just  where  to  begin;  but  I 
takes  a  chance  on  the  biggest  jew'lry  store  I 
can  find  on  Fifth-ave.  And,  say,  it  was  easy! 
Why,  in  no  time  at  all  I'm  up  on  the  second 
floor  and  a  nice,  smooth  talkin'  young  Charley- 
clerk  is  showin'  me  cases  full  of  nothing  but 
silver  things. 

11  How  about  this?  "  says  I,  pointin'  to  a 
three-handled  affair. 

"  Very  superior  article,"  says  he.  "  It  can 
be  used  either  as  a  loving  cup  or  as  a  stein, 
and—" 


TORCHY'S  BONEHEAD  HUNCH  217 

"  Take  it  away,"  says  I.  "  Did  I  ask  for 
beer  steins?  Show  me  just  mugs." 

"  Oh,  certainly,"  says  he,  crisp  and  pettish, 
like  his  feelin's  had  been  hurt. 

But  I  had  no  time  to  waste  on  soothnr  him 
down.  Besides,  I'd  got  my  eye  on  something 
that  just  seemed  to  fill  the  bill.  It's  a  gold 
lined  silver  mug  with  a  cute  little  shelf  effect 
on  the  inside,  sort  of  a  strainer,  I  judged,  and  I 
puts  the  tag  on  that.  The  duffer  made  me  hang 
around  an  hour  while  he  put  through  a  rush 
order  on  the  old  English  initials;  but  about 
half -past  eleven  I've  got  the  thing  all  done  up 
in  a  nice  satin  box  and  am  under  way  for  the 
Kent-Jacksons. 

And,  say,  I  knew  how  he'd  been  coniin'  to 
the  front  these  last  few  years,  as  a  promoter 
of  the  steamship  pool  and  all  that;  but  I  sure 
wa'n't  lookin'  to  find  him  spread  out  in  such  a 
swell  tent  as  this  double-breasted  mansion  on 
Riverside  Drive.  It's  a  reg'lar  brewer's  palace, 
with  an  iron  grill  across  the  front  door  like  the 
entrance  to  a  bank  vault.  The  butler  that  an- 
swers my  ring  is  most  as  imposin'  as  the  house, 
and  the  minute  he  cops  the  package  under  my 
arm  he  begins  sputterin'  and  wavin'  me  to  the 
rear. 

11  Ah,  pickle  that,  old  Sideboards!  "  says  I. 
"  This  ain't  a  case  of  tradespeople  to  the  back 
door;  it's  a  special  messenger  with  a  christen- 


218  TRYING  OUT  TOECHY 

in'  gift  to  be  delivered.    Does  that  sink  inf  " 

It  don't.  I  could  see  that  by  the  blank  look 
on  his  face. 

"  Here,  then,"  I  goes  on,  fishin'  Mr.  Robert's 
card  out  of  my  pocket,  "  lug  that  in  to  Mrs. 
Kent-Jackson  and  tell  her  how  Sunny  Haired 
Hank  waits  below!  " 

Honest,  if  I  was  hirin'  a  butler,  I'd  pick  one 
with  less  beef  and  more  brains.  He  reads  the 
card  all  through,  turns  it  upside  down,  ex- 
amines the  back,  and  then  goes  off,  leavin'  me 
outside  standin'  on  a  rubber  mat  that  has 
"  Welcome  "  worked  into  it  in  four-inch  letters. 
Seemed  like  I  stood  there  half  an  hour,  though 
maybe  it  was  less;  but  when  old  Solid  Ivory 
shows  up  again  he  swings  the  door  wide  open. 

"  Beg  pardon,  Sir,"  says  he.  "  You're  to 
step  in." 

"  I  will  if  my  feet  ain't  froze  to  the  mat," 
says  I.  "  Where  do  I  find  the  lady?  " 

He  bows  real  humble  and  explains  how  Mrs. 
Kent- Jackson  begs  me  to  wait  in  the  lib'ry 
until  she  has  finished  superintendin'  the  young 
master's  bath. 

' '  It  may  be  half  an  hour,  Sir, ' '  says  he ;  "  not 
more  than  three-quarters,  at  most.  She's  very 
sorry,  Sir." 

"  All  right,"  says  I.  "  Tell  her  not  to  weep 
in  the  tub." 

And  with  that  he  leads  me  through  a  big  hall 


TORCH Y'S  BONEHEAD  HUNCH    219 

lined  with  tin  armor  and  marble  statuary,  into 
a  big  room  all  done  in  stained  oak  and  red 
leather,  after  which  he  marches  off  with  his  nose 
in  the  air. 

I'd  only  tried  three  of  the  chairs,  and  war 
tryin'  to  puzzle  out  what  the  picture  over  the 
fireplace  was  meant  for,  when  I  hears  stealthy 
footsteps  comin'  through  the  conservatory  on 
the  left,  and  I  swings  around,  to  discover  a 
little,  dried  up  old  gent  doin'  the  sleuthy  sneak 
through  the  room. 

By  the  gumshoe  tread  and  the  black  leather- 
ette bag  he  carries,  I  might  have  put  him  down 
as  a  daylight  second  story  worker  makin'  off 
with  the  fam'ly  jewels;  but  the  Eube  costume 
he's  wearin'  and  the  mild,  gentle,  old  blue  eyes 
don 't  tally  with  that  description  at  all.  With  the 
funny,  back  number,  short  tailed  cutaway,  the 
low  cut  celluloid  collar,  and  the  big  silver  watch 
chain,  he  sure  was  a  queer  lookin'  gink  to  be 
wanderin'  around  in  a  flossy  ranch  like  that. 

He  has  his  old  slouch  hat  in  his  hand,  and  he's 
gazin'  around  admirin'  at  the  pictures  and  fur- 
niture. First  off  he  don't  see  me,  and  as  he 
passes  one  of  them  big  easy  chairs  he  stops,  sets 
his  bag  down,  and  tests  the  cushions  cautious 
with  one  hand.  He  was  just  rubbin'  his  fingers 
sort  of  caressin'  over  the  smooth  leather  when 
something  makes  him  turn  his  head  and  he  gets 
his  lamps  on  me. 


220  TRYING  OUT  TOECHY 

"  H'm,  excuse  me,"  says  he,  startin'  back 
guilty  and  grabbin'  up  Ms  bag. 

"  Don't  mention  it,"  says  I.  "  I'm  buttin' 
in  too.  Mug  for  the  youngster.  What  you 
delivering  Uncle?  " 

"  Me?  "  says  he.  "  Why — why,  nothing. 
I've  been  sort  of  stopping  here." 

"  Sounds  fishy,  Uncle,"  says  I;  "  but  maybe 
you'll  get  away  with  it.  You  don't  mean  to 
throw  the  bluff  you're  visitin'  the  Kent- 
Jacksons?  " 

"  Why,  yes,"  says  he:  "  that  is,  I  was.  I'm 
Pa  Jackson." 

•'What!"  says  I.  "Father  of  T.  Kent- 
Jackson!  " 

"  Tommy's  my  boy,"  says  he.  "  And,  say, 
this  is  quite  a  house  he's  got,  eh!  ' 

11  It's  a  classy  wigwam,  all  right,"  says  I. 

"  Seen  the  things  in  the  front  hall,  them 
suits  of  armor  and  the  statues?  "  says  he. 

"  I  got  a  glimpse  as  I  come  through," 
says  I. 

"  There's  more  in  the  dining  room,"  says  he, 
"  and  oil  paintings  everywhere.  Cost  a  lot  of 
money,  all  them  things ;  but  I  guess  Tommy  can 
afford  'em.  Yes,  yes.  I  suppose  I  ought  to 
be  going,  though. ' ' 

"  What,  before  the  doin's  this  afternoon!  ' 
says  I. 

"  That  christening's  what  I  came  on  for," 


TORCH Y'S  BONEHEAD  HUNCH    221 

says  he,  "  all  the  way  from  Manistee;  but — • 
but  I've  changed  my  mind  about  staying." 

There's  a  kind  of  break  in  his  voice  as  he  says 
this,  and  the  faded  old  blue  eyes  sort  of  dims 
up;  so  I  suspects  there's  something  more  he 
ain't  told. 

"  Why,  that's  too  bad,  ain't  it?  "  says  I. 
"  Business  draggin'  you  back?  " 

"  No,  it  ain't  that,"  says  he,  settlin'  down 
easy  on  the  chair  arm.  "  It's  on  account  of 
this  Lady  Collamer." 

"  Who's  she,  mother-in-law?  "  says  I. 

"  Aunt,"  says  he,  "  to  Tommy's  wife.  Come 
unexpected  yesterday  from  England.  How's 
that,  eh?  Maybe  you  didn't  know  Tommy's 
wife  had  such  high  flown  relations?  I  didn't 
myself  until  here  the  other  day.  Course,  I  knew 
she  was  English,  and  that  Tommy  met  her  while 
he  was  over  there  on  business;  but  I  didn't 
dream  he'd  married  into  the  nobility,  as  you 
might  say,  until  I  heard  about  Lady  Collamer. 
Say,  but  they're  a  mighty  stiff  necked  lot,  ain't 
they?  " 

"  So  I've  heard,"  says  I.  "  But  what  about 
you  and  the  old  girl?  Didn't  hit  it  off  well  at 
first,  eh?  " 

* '  Lordy,  no !  "  says  Pa  Jackson.  ' '  I  tried 
to  be  real  sociable  too;  but,  as  usual,  first  time 
I  opened  my  mouth  I  put  my  foot  in  it.  That 
was  when  we  was  introduced." 


222  TRYING  OUT  TOECHY 

"  What  sort  of  a  break  did  you  make?  " 
says  I. 

"  Why,"  says  he,  chucklin'  quiet,  "  I  got  the 
name  twisted.  l  Lady  Cucumber,  is  it?  '  says 
I.  '  Colla-mer,'  says  she,  '  not  Cucumber.* 
And  by  the  time  she'd  got  through  staring  at 
me  through  them  long  handled  gold  specs  of 
hers  I  was  shriveled  up  to  most  nothing  at  all." 

Seems  Pa  Jackson  was  just  achin'  to  confide 
in  someone,  and  he  was  lettin'  loose  on  me. 
He  says  while  his  son  Tommy  was  around  he 
felt  more  or  less  to  home,  and  had  meant  to 
stick  it  out  for  a  few  days,  in  spite  of  Lady  Col- 
lamer.  But  he  'd  been  up  ever  since  five  o  'clock 
that  mornin',  roamin'  around  the  house  dodgin' 
the  servants  and  dreadin'  to  meet  the  old  girl 
again,  and  it  had  just  naturally  got  on  his 
nerves.  At  last  he  decides  he  can't  stand  it 
any  longer;  so  he'd  packed  his  things  and  was 
takin'  one  final  look  around  Son  Tommy's  big 
house  when  he  runs  across  me. 

"  Course,"  he  says,  "  I  don't  know  what 
Tommy  will  think,  my  slipping  off  this  way; 
but  I  guess  it's  best.  I  ain't  much  on  style,  and 
this  Lady  Collamer's  a  mighty  grand  sort  of 
person,  I  tell  you!  What  she  thinks  of  me,  I 
wouldn't  dare  to  guess,  and  even  if  I  hadn't 
called  her  Lady  Cucumber,  I  expect —  Oh, 
Lordy!  here  she  comes  now!  " 

He'd  heard  the  rustle  of  stiff  silk  and  the 


TOECHY'S  BONEHEAD  HUNCH  223 

heavy  step  on  the  hardwood  floor  as  soon  as  I 
had,  and  he'd  grabbed  his  bag  and  hat  before 
you  could  think  twice.  But  at  that  he  was  too 
late;  for  there,  loomin'  up  solid  and  massive 
between  the  draperies,  is  a  fat,  purple  faced  old 
party  with  a  hard,  cold  look  in  her  eyes,  gazin' 
at  us  stern  and  disapprovin'.  Under  one  arm 
she's  luggin'  a  fat,  wheezy,  little  old  pug  dog, 
and  as  she  reaches  for  her  lorgnette  she  drops 
him  on  the  floor.  Pa  Jackson  stands  there  star- 
in'  at  her  with  his  mouth  half  open,  like  he'd 
been  hypnotized. 

"  Ugh!  "  says  she,  takin'  a  squint  at  him. 
"  That  odious  person  again!  " 

"  Yes'm,"  says  he,  bowin'  awkward. 

"  Humph!  "  she  snorts;  and  then,  turnin' 
to  me,  she  snaps  out,  "  Who  are  you,  pray?  ' 

"  Guilty,"  says  I.  "I  mean  I'm  just  Torchy. 
Honest,  Lady,  I  don't  belong  to  the  fam'ly. 
I'm  waitin'  to  leave  a  christenin'  present  for 
the  kid." 

"  Kid!  "  she  gasps.  "  Another  odious  per- 
son." 

"  Yep,"  says  I,  "  number  two." 

' '  Humph !  ' '  she  snorts  again,  and  with  that 
she  sails  between  us  towards  the  conservatory, 
the  fat  pug  wheezin'  along  behind. 

Where  the  Boston  bull  terrier  had  been  con- 
cealed all  this  time  I  expect  I'll  never  know; 
but  he  must  have  been  on  the  scent  and  layin' 


224  TRYING  OUT  TOECHT 

for  puggy,  for  all  of  a  sudden  lie  scoots  through 
on  the  jump,  lands  on  the  pug  with  all  four 
feet  and  his  mouth  open,  and  for  the  next  few 
seconds  the  lib'ry  was  an  excitin'  place.  There 
was  growls  from  the  terrier,  and  howls  and 
ki-yi's  and  toenail  scratchin'  by  the  pug,  with 
Lady  Collamer  squealin'  for  help  and  hoppin' 
round  wringin'  her  hands. 

Being  right  on  the  spot,  it  was  up  to  me  and 
Pa  Jackson ;  and  I  must  say  that  the  calm  way 
the  old  gent  dove  in  and  grabbed  the  terrier  by 
the  neck  was  all  to  the  scientific.  Between  my 
pullin'  away  at  the  pug,  and  Pa  Jackson's  pry- 
in'  open  the  terrier's  teeth  with  his  fingers,  the 
heroic  rescue  was  made  in  record  time. 

Having  his  fun  spoiled  in  that  fashion  made 
the  Boston  bull  some  ugly,  and  he  starts  in  to 
chew  up  the  old  sport's  wrist.  But  Pa  Jackson 
was  a  dog  tamer  from  up  the  creek.  He  pro- 
ceeds to  shake  off  the  pup,  and  as  he  drops 
him  he  executes  as  neat  a  kick  as  if  he  was  a 
star  punter  on  some  college  eleven.  And  by  the 
time  the  yelps  had  died  out  as  the  terrier  gets 
nearer  the  attic,  and  the  butler  and  three  maids 
has  been  sent  to  lock  him  up,  and  the  pug  has 
been  restored  to  the  protectin'  arms  of  Lady 
Collamer,  the  old  girl  was  ready  to  extend  her 
vote  of  thanks.  There's  no  denyin',  too,  but 
that  she  did  it  generous  and  handsome. 

"  And  so,"  she  says,  after  that's  off  her 


TOECHY'S  BONEHEAD  HUNCH  225 

mind,  "  you  are  the  father  of  Evelyn's  hus- 
band, are  you!  ' 

11  Yes,  Lady  Cu-Cull — "  begins  Pa  Jackson, 
tryin'  to  make  a  society  bow  and  get  the  name 
straight  at  the  same  time. 

"  Collamer,"  says  she,  helpin'  him  out. 
"  And  for  Heaven's  sake  stop  bobbing  your 
head  that  way!  Sit  down,  too,  both  of  you." 

Well,  we  sat,  Pa  Jackson  only  venturin'  to 
squat  on  the  edge  of  his  chair,  and  still  holdin* 
his  hat. 

'  *  Now  tell  me,  Mr.  Jackson, ' '  says  she, ' '  why 
you  are  mooning  about  the  house  with  that 
traveling  bag?  You  were  not  thinking  of  leav- 
ing before  the  christening  ceremony,  were 
you?  " 

"  Why — er — ye-e-es,"  says  Pa  Jackson. 

"  What!  "  she  explodes,  glarin'  at  him. 

"  No,  no;  not  at  all,"  says  he.  "I  was— 
er— that  is — " 

"  Ah,  back  up!  "  says  I,  breakin'  in.  *  "  You 
know  you  were  beating  it;  you  told  me  so." 

' '  Ah — ha !  ' '  says  she.  t '  And  for  what  rea- 
son, I  should  like  to  know?  ' 

Pa  Jackson  glances  at  me  reproachful  and 
makes  a  stagger  at  explainin'.  "  Why,"  he 
goes  on,  "I  thought  I  might  as  well  clear  out 
now.  I  only  came  on  for  a  short  stop,  you. 
know,  and — well,  the  fact  is,  I  ought  to  be  get- 
ting back  to  Manistee." 


226  TRYING  OUT  TOECHY 

"  Humph!  "  says  Lady  Collamer.  "  I  don't 
believe  a  word  of  it!  Boy,  do  you  know  any- 
thing more?  " 

"  Sure!  "  says  I.  "It  was  a  case  of  cold 
feet." 

"  Cold  feet!  "  says  she.  "  Meaning  what, 
now?  " 

"  Why,  you  had  him  scared  stiff,  that's  all," 
says  I,  "  and,  as  long  as  you've  put  me  on  the 
stand,  I  might  as  well  say  that  it  don't  strike 
me  as  a  square  deal.  He's  the  youngster's 
grandfather,  ain't  he?  And  it  seems  he  ought 
to  cut  some  figure  at  the  christenin'." 

"  Quite  right,"  says  the  old  lady.  "So  he 
shall.  I  mean  to  attend  to  that  myself.  First 
of  all,  though,  we  must  get  better  acquainted. 
Tell  me  about  your  -son. ' ' 

"  About  Tommy?  "  says  Pa  Jackson. 

"  Certainly,"  says  Lady  Collamer.  "  To  be 
sure,  he's  an  American;  but  I  like  him  very 
tnuch.  He  seems  to  be  a  manly,  capable  young 
fellow." 

"  Tommy  always  was  a  good  boy,"  says  Pa 
Jackson,  brushin'  his  eyes  with  the  back  of  his 
hand. 

11  Was  he  born  out  there  in — in  that  unheard 
of  place  where  you  live  ?  ' '  says  Lady  Collamer. 

"  Tommy?  "  says  Pa  Jackson.  "  Why,  no, 
Tommy  was  born  right  in  New  York.  You 
know,  I  was  in  business  here  myself  once ;  same 


TORCHY'S  BONEHEAD  HUNCH  227 

line  too,  steamship  agent.  We  were  doing  well, 
and  I  was  planning  some  day  to  have  a  nice 
home, — maybe  not  quite  so  fine  as  this,  but  al- 
most, for  we  were  making  money  fast  in  those 
days, — when  something  happened  that  ended 
it  all." 

"  Yes!  "  says  Lady  Collamer.  "  Go  on." 
11  It's  a  matter  I  ain't  talked  much  about  foi 
a  good  many  years,"  says  Pa  Jackson.  "  But 
I  had  a  partner,  a  young  Englishman,  bright 
and  smart  and  good  natured.  I  thought  aa 
much  of  him  as  if  he'd  been  a  brother.  It  was 
making  money  so  fast  that  spoiled  him.  He 
wanted  to  spend  his  share  as  it  came  in, — fine 
clothes,  fast  horses,  wine,  and  all  the  rest.  He 
got  in  with  a  bad  lot.  I  didn't  know  how  bad 
they  were,  though,  until  late  one  night  when  he 
staggered  into  my  front  door  with  a  bullet  in 
his  shoulder.  That  wa'n't  the  worst,  either. 
He  said  he'd  killed  a  man.  There  had  been  a 
row  in  a  gambling  place.  He'd  been  shot,  and 
he'd  shot  back.  And  before  morning  he  told 
me  the  rest.  He'd  lost  a  lot  of  money,  and  a 
good  deal  of  it  was  mine.  Well,  what  could  I 
do?  Pie  was  like  a  brother  to  me,  mind  you. 
I  kept  him  under  cover,  the  wife  and  I  nursed 
him  until  he  was  well  enough  to  travel,  and  then 
I  put  him  aboard  a  steamer  for  England.  And, 
after  all,  as  it  turned  out,  the  other  fellow  got 
well  too.  But  our  business  had  gone  to  smash* 


228  TRYING  OUT  TORCHY 

I  took  what  was  left,  and  with  little  Tommy  and 
his  mother  we  went  West.    I've  been  there  ever 
since,  working  and  scraping  to  give  Tommy  the 
chance  I  had  once.    Tommy's  had  it,  and  he's 
made  good  too.    So  I'm  satisfied." 

Say,  that  was  some  of  a  yarn  to  dig  up  from  a 
quiet  little  old  chap  like  Pa  Jackson!  I'd  been 
followin'  it  so  close  too,  that  I  hadn't  noticed 
how  Lady  Collamer  was  takin'  it  until  just  at 
the  finish  I  glanced  over  to  see  her  with  her 
hands  grippin'  the  chair  arms  and  a  diff'rent 
look  in  her  eyes. 

"  This  young  Englishman's  name,"  says  she, 

II  was  it  Kendall?  " 

11  Why,  yes,"  says  he.  "  Bryce  Kendall. 
You  didn't  happen  to  know  him,  did  you?  ' 

"  I  did,"  says  she.  "  That  was  my  son's 
name  before  he  came  into  the  title  and  became 
Lord  Collamer.  And  if  you  are  the  Thomas 
Jackson  named  in  his  will,  there  is  still  held  in 
trust  for  you  the  estate  of  Chipping  Sodbury 
in  Devonshire." 

"  Well,  well!  "  says  Pa  Jackson.  "  Left  me 
a  place  over  there,  did  he?  ' 

1 '  The  finest  in  the  county, ' '  says  Lady  Colla- 
mer. "  I  trust  you  will  go  back  with  me  and 
occupy  it.  It  adjoins  mine,  and  I'm  sure  I 
should  like  you  for  a  neighbor." 

11  Why,  thank  you,"  says  Pa  Jackson, 
"  that's  mighty  nice  of  you  to  say,  and  I  guess 


you  and  I'd  get  along  as  neighbors  first  rate, 
after  all.  But  Manistee's  more  my  style.  In 
fact,  the  train  I  was  thinking  of  taking  leaves 
in  about — " 

"  Thomas  Jackson,"  says  Lady  Collamer, 
"  put — down — that — bag!  I'm  going  to  have  a 
talk  with  Evelyn  about  you  and —  Why,  here 
she  is  now!  " 

Well,  say,  as  it  was  past  my  lunch  hour,  and 
as  I  wa'n't  strictly  in  this  fam'ly  love  feast, 
I  hands  over  the  package  to  Mrs.  Kent- Jackson 
and  slides  out  to  where  the  fat  butler  was  wait- 
in'  to  shoo  me  through  the  door.  And  at  two- 
fifteen  I  presents  Mr.  Eobert  with  the  receipt 
I'd  made  the  jewl'ry  clerk  give  me. 

"  Here,  Torchy,"  he  sings  out,  "  what  does 
this  mean!  " 

"  Price  ticket  on  the  christenin'  present," 
says  I.  "  And  here's  the  change.  Ain't  it 
right?  " 

"  Eight!"  he  howls.  "Why,  you  scarlet 
topped  young  imp,  you've  made  me  send  a  sil- 
ver shaving  mug  to  a  three-months-old  baby !  ' : 

"  Gee!  "  says  I.  "So  that  shelf  was  for 
soap,  was  it?  Well,  maybe  he'll  grow  to  it, 
seem'  he's  a  boy." 

Which  may  disguise,  but  don't  work  any 
revise  on  the  fact  that  I'm  in  bad  with  Mr.  Eob- 
ert, just  the  same.  And  it  lasts  until  he  blows 
in  from  luncheon  next  day.  Instead  of  his 


230  TRYING  OUT  TOECHY 


i'  the  gate  and  nishin'  past  my  desk, 
though,  I  looks  up  to  find  him  standin'  there 
grinnin'  at  me  amiable. 

"  I've  been  having  a  talk  with  Kent-  Jackson, 
Torchy,"  says  he. 

11  Uh-huhf  "  says  I.  "  Sore  about  the  shav- 
en' mug,  was  he?  " 

"  Hardly,"  says  Mr.  Eobert.  "  He  thinks 
you're  a  wonder-something  about  the  way  you 
smoothed  matters  out  between  his  old  dad, 
whom  he  thinks  a  heap  of,  and  his  wife's  aunt. 
Now  just  how  did  you  manage  it?  " 

"  Me?  "  says  I.  "  Why,  it  was  the  old  gent 
himself,  tellin'  the  story  of  his  life  without 
waitin'  for  the  music  cue.  All  I  did  was  mix 
in  a  little  at  the  start.  Honest,  it  was  Pa  Jack- 
son got  the  good  hunch." 


CHAPTER  XIV 

CATCHING  A  SIGNAL 

AND  I  thought  I  was  some  shunter,  too.  Why, 
that  very  mornin'  I'd  given  the  run  to  four  or 
five  smooth  conversers  that  had  tried  to  get 
through  the  brass  gate,  each  with  his  own  pri- 
vate earache  to  deliver  to  Old  Hickory  or  Mr. 
Eobert.  I'd  sifted  'em  out  from  a  lot  of  peo- 
ple that  had  a  right  to  get  by,  and  I  was  feelin' 
puffed  up  and  chesty  "over  the  way  I'd  done  it. 

Yet  look  how  Lola  rushes  me  off  my  feet  at 
the  first  whirl.  You  see,  I  was  busy  just  then 
exchangin'  a  few  kiddin'  remarks  with  one  of 
the  lady  typists  across  the  office,  and  I  had  my 
back  to  the  door;  when  all  of  a  sudden  there 
comes  this  swishy,  rustlin'  noise,  and  I  looks 
up,  to  have  my  eyes  dazzled  by  a  vision  in  lemon 
yellow. 

Talk  about  your  poster  effects!  Say,  here 
was  a  female  party  about  seventeen  hands  high, 
the  same  width  all  the  way  up  and  down,  and 
costumed  in  that  new  shade  that  looks  like  the 
inside  of  a  squash  pie,  with  a  smashin'  big  yel- 
low straw  lid  on  top  of  a  lot  of  benzine  blonde 
hair.  Maybe  it  wa'n't  some  brilliant  color 

231 


232  TRYING  OUT  TORCHY 

scheme,  too!  She  has  a  reg'lar  giraffe  neck, 
and  one  of  these  long  meatax  faces  with  pale 
green  eyes, — a  face  that  you  could  see  once  and 
then  wake  up  out  of  a  sound  sleep  a  month 
later  and  remember  accurate. 

Jarred?  Say,  believe  me,  I  didn't  know 
whether  it  was  really  so,  or  if  I'd  gone  color 
blind  all  to  once!  But  before  I  has  time  to 
make  up  my  mind  she  has  sprung  the  gate 
catch,  walked  in,  and  is  snuggled  up  close  pat- 
tin'  me  on  the  shoulder. 

11  Tell  me,  my  dear  little  fellow,"  says  she, 
lettin'  it  come  out  cooin'  and  gurgly,  "  is  Rob- 
ert— er — young  Mr.  Ellins,  you  know — is  he 
in?" 

"  Mr.  Robert?  "  says  I,  gawpin'  up  at  her 
with  my  mouth  open,  "  why — I — I  better  take 
in  your  name,  I  guess,  Miss." 

"  Oh,  no,  no!  Let's  not  do  that,"  says  she, 
slippin'  her  arm  around  my  neck  and  cuddlin' 
me  up  real  impetuous.  ' '  It  will  be  so  delicious 
to  surprise  him  at  his  desk,  don't  you  see!  I 
want  to  know  just  how  he  looks  that  way,  when 
he's  expecting  no  one.  Come!  Allans  nous! 
The  surprise !  ' ' 

And  the  next  thing  I  know  I'm  on  my  feet, 
and  she's  huggin'  me  up  with  one  of  them  long 
yellow  arms,  and  I 'id  bein'  paraded  past  a 
whole  line  of  grinnin'  typewriter  girls,  bang  up 
to  the  door  of  Mr.  Robert's  private  office  and 


CATCHING  A  SIGNAL  233 

through  it,  without  makin'  so  much  as  a 
struggle.  Foolish?  Why,  say,  a  kitten  with 
his  feet  stuck  in  flypaper  couldn't  have  felt 
worse ! 

But,  silly  as  I  must  have  looked,  with  her 
still  holdin'  the  clinch,  that  wa'n't  a  marker  to 
the  flat  expression  that  spreads  over  Mr.  Rob- 
ert's face  when  he  swings  around  and  sees  us. 
We'd  pulled  off  the  surprise,  all  right;  but 
whether  he  really  did  think  of  crawlin'  under 
the  desk  or  jumpin'  for  the  fire  escape,  I  could- 
n't make  out. 

"  Why,  Miss  Macintosh!  "  he  gasps. 

"  Oh,  Eobert!  "  says  she,  reprovin'.  "  After 
I  had  told  you  that  you  might  call  me  Lola, 
too!  " 

"  Ah — er — yes,  that's  so,"  says  he.  And 
then  turnin'  to  me  sharp,  "  Torchy,  you  may 
send  in  Mr.  Piddie.  At  once,  understand!  ' 

"  Yes,  Sir,  right  away,  Sir,"  says  I,  squirm- 
in'  loose  and  makin'  my  escape.  I  didn't  los« 
any  time  in  findin'  Piddie,  either.  "  Piddie,'1 
says  I,  "  did  you  see  it?  " 

"  The  tall  young  lady  in  yellow!  "  says  he. 

"  Uh-huh,"  says  I.  "  Chase  in;  it's  your 
turn  to  get  hugged." 

Whether  she  passed  it  as  far  as  Piddie  or  not, 
I  can 't  say ;  but  it  was  half  an  hour  before  Lola 
shows  up  again,  and  on  her  way  out  she  stops  to 
hand  me  a  partin'  squeeze. 


234  TRYING  OUT  TORCHY 

"  You  dear  boy!  "  she  cooes.  "  I've  been 
hearing  all  about  you  from  Robert." 

"Huh!"  says  I.  "Don't  swallow  it  al?. 
He's  a  kidder,  Mr.  Robert  is." 

* '  A  what  ?  ' '  says  Lola.  *  *  But,  there,  I  must- 
n't  stay  now.  You're  coming  up  to  see  me 
sometime,  you  know,  and  we're  to  have  a  nice 
long  chat.  Meanwhile  I  am  going  to  give  you 
one  of  my  little  books,  and  when  I  see  you  again 
you  must  tell  me  how  you  like  it.  Au  revoir, 
Torchy." 

And  out  she  floats,  leavin'  me  gazin'  at  a 
dinky  little  affair  bound  in  white  and  gold, 
with  this  on  the  cover: 

LILTINGS 

by 
LOLA  MACINTOSH 

"  Gee!  "  thinks  I.  "  What's  «  Liltings  '!  " 
With  that  I  opens  her  up  and  strikes  this 
sample ! 

Two  gray  gulls  wheel 
In  the  gray,  gray  sky — 
Soar  on,  O  soul  of  mine ! 
For  he  comes,  he  comes, 
And  the  dawn  is  nigh, 
And  he  is  wholly  thine. 

I'd  just  gone  over  it  for  the  second  time, 
tryin'  to  find  out  what  it  was  all  about,  when 


CATCHING  A  SIGNAL  235 

out   comes    Mr.    Robert,    flushed   up    sort    of 
grouchy  and  sheepish. 

' '  Look !  ' '  says  I,  exhibitin '  the  book.  ' '  Hon- 
est graft. ' ' 

11  I  know,"  says  he,  sighin'  weary.  "  She 
never  misses  a  chance." 

"  Well,  that's  one  way  of  boomin'  a  circula- 
tion," says  I.  "  But,  say,  I  never  knew  lady 
poets  was  such  chummy  parties." 

"  Then  you've  added  that  much  to  your  stock 
of  wisdom,"  says  Mr.  Eobert.  "  But  why  in 
the  name  of  all  that's  great,  young  man,  did  you 
rush  her  into  my  office  without  warning?  " 

"  Who,  me?  "  says  I.  "  Ah,  say,  did  I  look 
like  I  was  doin'  the  rushin'?  Say,  I'd  like  to 
know  what  you'd  do  if  she  ever  gets  that  fond 
clinch  on  you  and — " 

11  There,  there !  "  breaks  in  Mr.  Eobert.  "  If 
you  don't  mind,  we  will  not  discuss  the  pos- 
sibility. The  situation  is  bad  enough  as  it 
stands.  I  have  promised  to  take  tea  with  her 
this  afternoon." 

"  Gee!  "  says  I.  "  Then  you're  one  of  the 
gray  gulls." 

11  Eh?  "  says  he. 

"  Page  29  in  '  Liltings,'  "  says  I.  "  You 
better  read  the  book." 

Mr.  Robert,  though,  claims  he  can  prove  an 
alibi,  and  goes  on  to  say  how  this  is  a  strictly 
business  proposition.  Seems  Lola  is  more  or 


236  TRYING  OUT  TOECHY 

less  of  a  lady  plute  as  well  as  a  lady  poet,  and 
among  other  knicknacks  that's  been  handed  on 
to  her  is  some  Mesaba  Eange  property  that  the 
Corrngated  would  like  to  annex  to  their  iron 
holdings.  Havin'  met  Lola  crossin'  from  Liver- 
pool a  couple  of  summers  ago,  and  havin'  had 
a  good  deal  of  her  society  on  the  trip  over,  Mr. 
Eobert  takes  a  chance  on  droppin'  a  personal 
note  to  her  makin'  an  offer.  Hence  the  morn- 
in'  visit. 

"  All  of  which,"  goes  on  Mr.  Eobert,  "  inter- 
ests you  to  this  extent, — I've  decided  to  take 
you  with  me  when  I  go  up  there  after 
luncheon. ' ' 

"  Just  as  much  obliged,  Mr.  Eobert,"  says 
I;  "  but  there's  liable  to  be  a  rush  on  this  after- 
noon, and  I  guess  I'd  better  stick  around  here." 

"  Then  you  have  one  more  guess,"  says  he. 
11  We  start  at  three-fifteen  for  the  tea." 

That's  what  we  did,  too,  and  I  don't  know  as 
I  ever  saw  him  quite  so  near  havin'  fidgets. 
He  has  plenty  of  chance  to  work  up  a  case;  for 
the  place  we  was  headed  for  was  one  of  these 
On-the-Hudson  joints  up  beyond  Yonkers.  He 
says  the  house  is  named  Aurora  Lodge. 

' '  Must  be  some  swell,  then, ' '  says  I.  * '  Did- 
n't  make  it  all  peddlin'  pomes,  did  she?  " 

"  Hardly,"  says  Mr.  Eobert.  "  The  Mac- 
intosh fortune,  I  understand,  was  made  by 
sellin'  a  hair  restorer.  There  is  one  of  the  ads 


CATCHING  A  SIGNAL  237 

now  in  the  end  of  the  car:  '  Macintosh's  Anti- 
Bald:  Hair  Back  or  Money  Back.'  : 

"  No  wonder  she  can  be  so  reckless  with  her 
poetry  books!  "  says  I.  "  But,  say,  Mr.  Rob- 
ert, just  where  do  I  fit  in  at  these  tea  doings'?  ' 

"  I  wish  I  knew,"  says  he.  "  The  fact  is, 
Torchy,  that  Miss  Macintosh  is  of  a — er — well, 
she  has  rather  an  affectionate  nature." 

"Yes,  I  noticed  that,"  says  I.  "But  I 
played  goat  this  mornin'." 

"  So  you  did,"  says  he.  "  And  this  after- 
noon it  may  happen  that — well,  hang  it  all,  Boyy 
you  ought  to  understand!  " 

"  Sure!  "  says  I.  "  She's  liable  to  go  to  a 
clinch  with  you.  That  it?  " 

"  If  there  shouldn't  chance  to  be  anyone  else 
handy,  yes,"  says  he.  "  And  my  idea  was  that 
if  you  were  there  you  might,  in  that  event — 
er — create  a  diversion,  you  know." 

"  Start  something,  eh?  "  says  I. 

"  Precisely,"  says  he.  "  Of  course,  I  trust 
it  may  not  be  necessary;  but  I've  had  one  ex- 
perience,— on  the  steamer;  narrow  shave,  by 
Jove!  I  don't  care  to  risk  another.  And  this 
business  affair  may  take  us  off  into  some  se- 
cluded corner,  you  see." 

* '  I  get  the  picture, ' '  says  I.  *  *  Lola  develops 
a  loppy  streak,  and  there  you  are.  But  suppose 
I've  been  shut  out?  " 

"  You  can  be  within  hearing  distance,  at 


238  TRYING  OUT  TOBCHY 

least,"  says  Mr.  Robert.  "  I'll  tell  you:  I  will 
cough  twice." 

11  Which  will  be  my  cue  to  cut  loose,  eh? 
I'm  on,"  says  I.  "  But  what  then  I  Do  I  start 
a  bonfire,  or  throw  a  fit,  or  chuck  a  cat  through 
the  window?  " 

"  Anything,"  says  Mr.  Robert,  "  providing 
you  break  up  the  scene.  I'll  stand  for  any- 
thing." 

"  Huh!  "  says  I.  "  Then  it  will  be  a  case  of 
thinkin'  quick  and  actin'  quicker.  I  hope  I 
don't  have  paralysis  of  the  nut  then." 

11  If  you  do,"  says  he,  "  it  will  be  the  first 
time  on  record." 

Well,  say,  that  was  some  order,  wa'n't  it  I 
And  the  more  I  thought  it  over,  the  chillier  I 
got  below  the  ankles;  so  by  the  time  we  landed 
at  Aurora  Lodge  there  was  a  pair  of  us. 

We  was  met  in  style  at  the  station  with  a 
limousine,  and  snaked  off  a  couple  of  miles  and 
through  a  big  pair  of  stone  gates  and  up  in 
front  of  an  imitation  stone  castle,  and  bowed  in 
through  the  double  front  doors  by  a  butler. 
A  minute  more,  and  Lola  comes  floatin'  down 
stairs  all  costumed  in  three  different  shades 
of  yellow,  with  a  yellow  rose  in  her  hair, 
and  lookin'  a  mile  high  and  three  inches 
through. 

We  gets  a  warm  greetin'  that  only  stopped 
short  of  a  football  tackle,  and  then  she  tows  us 


CATCHING  A  SIGNAL  239 

into  a  forty-foot  drawin '  room  full  of  gilt  chairs 
and  gold  pianos  and  marble  statues,  and  there 
we  discovers  the  only  other  entry.  He  turns  out 
to  be  a  bilious  complected  shrimp  with  shell 
rimmed  eyeglasses  and  a  wonderful  growth  of 
mud  colored  hair. 

"  Robert,"  says  Lola,  "  let  me  present  my; 
good  friend,  Lloyd  Jepson,  the  painter.  Mr. 
Jepson,  you  know,  did  that  portrait  of  me  that 
he  had  the  impudence  to  hang  in  the  Academy 
last  winter." 

Mr.  Robert  said  he  was  glad  to  meet  Mr.  Jep- 
son, and  shook  his  mitt  real  hearty,  too.  Then 
Lola  rumples  my  hair  lovin'  and  lugs  me  to  the 
front,  and  after  they'd  swapped  a  lot  of  polite 
chatter  we  had  tea  and  sandwiches,  and  it  be- 
gins to  look  like  Mr.  Robert  had  been  shyin'  at  a 
shadow  on  the  wall. 

"  Now  I'm  going  to  take  you  over  the 
grounds,"  announces  Lola.  "  Don't  look  bored, 
Lloyd.  I  know  you've  seen  them  often ;  but  Mr. 
Ellins  must  be  made  to  do  his  duty.  Then 
afterward  there  are  Castor  and  Pollux  to  be 
fed,  you  know.  They  are  most  precious  pos- 
sessions, Robert;  so  you  must  fully  appreciate 
them." 

* '  Riding  horses  f  ' '  says  Mr.  Robert. 

"  The  idea!  "  says  Lola.  "  Nothing  so  com- 
monplace. Guess  again." 

"  Monkeys,  then,"  says  he. 


240  TRYING  OUT  TOECHY 

"  Horrid  man!  "  says  she,  tappin'  him  play- 
ful. "  Now  I'll  not  tell  you  at  all.  You  must 
wait  until  you  see  them."  • 

And  all  this  time  I  notices  Jepson  scowlin* 
at  Mr.  Eobert  through  his  glasses,  which  gives 
me  a  new  line  on  the  situation.  Looks  like  Jep- 
son is  backin'  a  little  matrimonial  boom  of  his 
own,  and  he  thinks  he's  discovered  another 
candidate.  Well,  that  makes  this  tour  of  ours 
all  the  more  int'restin';  for  every  time  Lola 
makes  Mr.  Eobert  nervous  by  startin'  to  snug- 
gle up  as  she  points  out  this  or  that,  poor  Jep- 
son grinds  his  teeth  and  exhibits  other  symp- 
toms of  distress.  Of  course  I  does  my  best  at 
sympathizin'  with  him. 

"  Swell  lookin'  couple,  eh  I  "  I  suggests,  as 
we  drops  a  little  behind. 

"  Hah!  "  grunts  Jepson. 

"  She  don't  hate  him  exactly,  does  she?  "  I 
goes  on.  "  Seel  "  and  I  gives  him  the  nudge 
as  Lola  executes  one  of  her  loppy  moves  to- 
wards the  boss  and  rolls  them  pale  green  eyes 
real  kittenish. 

"  Gr-r-r-r!  "  growls  Jepson,  deep  down  in 
his  chest. 

And  after  we'd  seen  the  orchid  house,  and 
the  white  tiled  garage,  and  the  fancy  tulip  beds, 
and  the  deer  park,  Lola  leads  us  down  to  the 
sunken  garden  and  discloses  the  mystery  of 
Castor  and  Pollux. 


CATCHING  A  SIGNAL  241 

"  There!  "  says  she.  "  There  are  my  pre- 
cious pets!  ': 

And  what  do  you  guess?  Why,  down  in  a 
little  round  pond  is  a  pair  of  pelicans.  YouVe 
seen  'em  up  at  the  Bronx  Zoo,  I  guess.  And, 
say,  of  all  the  foolish  lookin'  birds  that  ever 
stretched  a  wing,  they're  the  limit,  ain't  they! 
Honest,  to  see  this  pair  sittin'  on  the  water  with 
their  necks  folded  back,  restin'  their  long  bills 
on  their  breastbones,  was  almost  enough  to  give 
you  paresis  by  suggestion.  They  didn't  look 
as  though  they  knew  enough  to  last  'em  through 
the  next  minute ;  but  no  sooner  does  Miss  Mac- 
intosh begin  jabberin'  baby  talk  to  'em  than 
they  rouses  up,  stretches  their  necks,  and  starts 
squeakin'  like  a  pair  of  rusty  hinges. 

"  'Ou  dear  darlings!  Does  'ou  want  urns' 
supper  ?  ' '  gushes  Lola.  * '  Well,  urns  shall  have 
it,  so  urns  shall!  " 

With  that  she  presses  a  pushbutton,  and  by 
the  time  she's  through  explainin'  which  is  Cas- 
tor and  which  is  the  other,  and  how  cunnin' 
they  are,  down  comes  one  of  the  gardeners  with 
a  basket  of  yellow  perch. 

11  Now,  Lloyd,"  says  Lola,  "  I  am  going  to 
let  you  and  Torchy  feed  my  darlings  while  Rob- 
ert and  I  have  a  little  chat  in  the  summer- 
house." 

I  got  one  look  at  Mr.  Eobert  as  he  glances 
around,  and  I  knew  he  was  wise  to  the  fact  that 


242  TRYING  OUT  TORCHY 

he'd  been  let  in  for  it,  after  all.  For  the  sum- 
merhouse,  you  see,  was  a  dinky,  vine  covered 
little  affair  up  on  the  rocks  a  hundred  foot  back 
from  the  pond,  and  just  the  place  for  romantic 
doin's.  Also  Jepson  was  hep  to  the  proposition 
that  he'd  been  run  on  a  siding.  It  was  Lola's 
programme,  though,  so  neither  of  'em  could 
renig. 

"  Beast!  "  mutters  Jepson  under  his  breath, 
glarin'  after  Mr.  Robert. 

"  Eh?  "  says  I.    "  Did  you  say  anything?  " 

11  Shut  up  and  help  me  feed  these  fool 
birds!  "  snaps  Jepson,  grabbin'  a  fish  and  slam- 
min'  it  at  Castor. 

"  Well,  what  do  you  think  of  that  for  a  quick 
lunch?  "  says  I,  as  Castor  unlimbers  his  long 
neck,  opens  his  face  about  a  yard,  makes  one 
gulp,  and  downs  his  perch. 

With  that  I  takes  a  hand  in  the  game  and 
chucks  a  bite  to  Pollux.  He's  just  as  nimble 
a  feeder  as  the  other,  swallowin'  an  eight-inch 
perch  without  battin'  an  eyelid.  Next  I  throws 
one  between  'em  and  gets  'em  scrabblin'  for  it. 
And  of  all  the  awkward,  silly  motions  I  ever 
saw!  Why,  it  was  more  fun  than  a  cow  on 
skates!  They'd  hop  up  out  of  the  water  with 
their  big  wings  floppin'  and  their  short  legs 
wabblin',  and  down  they'd  come  splash  all  in  a 
heap,  and  then  you'd  see  one  or  the  other  give 
a  gulp,  and  it  would  be  all  over. 


CATCHING  A  SIGNAL  243 

I  got  so  interested  in  the  game  that  I  clean 
forgot  all  about  Mr.  Robert  and  the  fair  Lola, 
until  all  of  a  sudden  I  hears  a  couple  of  loud 
"  Ahem's!  "  comin'  from  the  summerhouse. 

"  Gee!  "  thinks  I.  "  She's  gone  to  a  clinch 
with  him!  There's  the  signal!  ': 

And  here  I  was  with  nothin'  on  the  slate  and 
no  rules  to  follow.  How  the  blazes  was  I  goin' 
to  raise  a  disturbance  out  in  the  open?  I  might 
jump  on  Jepson  and  push  him  into  the  pond; 
but  that  would  be  a  low  down  trick,  with  the 
water  as  cold  as  it  was  then.  Still,  I  couldn't 
think  of  anything  else,  and  I  was  just  sizin '  him 
up  for  the  assault  and  battery  act,  when  I  no- 
tices the  pelicans.  They'd  each  got  hold  of  the 
same  fish  and  was  tuggin'  away  at  it  to  beat 
the  band.  And  there  in  a  flash  comes  this  fool 
idea. 

The  perch  had  been  sent  up  strung  on  a  heavy 
piece  of  cord,  and  there  was  only  three  or  four 
left  in  the  basket.  Grabbin'  the  end  one,  that 
had  the  cord  tied  to  his  gills,  I  picks  up  an- 
other, fastens  him  the  same  way  to  the  other 
end  of  the  line,  and  gives  the  two  a  sling  out 
into  the  pond. 

Well,  say,  I  never  dreamed  you  could  get  so 
much  fun  out  of  a  pair  of  birds.  Old  Castor 
Oil  pounces  on  one  fish,  and  Pollux  snatches  the 
other,  and  then  they  begins  to  swallow.  But 
as  fast  as  one  gets  a  perch  halfway  down  the 


244  TRYING  OUT  TORCHY 

other  would  yank  it  away  from  him  with  the 
line,  and  then  they'd  begin  fresh  again. 

After  a  minute  or  so  of  this  they  was  two  of 
the  maddest  pelicans  in  captivity.  The  way 
they  churned  the  water  up  with  their  feet  and 
wings,  each  tryin'  to  back  off  with  his  fish  and 
get  it  down  where  it  would  do  the  most  good — 
well,  it  was  rich!  A  meal  with  a  string  to  it 
was  soniethin'  they  hadn't  run  up  against  be- 
fore, and  they  didn't  understand  what  was 
wrong.  The  madder  they  got  the  louder  they 
squawked,  and  right  in  the  midst  of  the  racket 
Miss  Macintosh  lets  go  her  hold  and  comes 
rushin'  down  lookin'  wild  and  excited. 

"Why,  Lloyd  Jepson!  "  says  she  accusin'. 
"  What  have  you  done  to  my  precious  pets?  " 

11  Me?  "  says  Jepson,  indignant.  "  I  haven't 
done  a  thing.  I  don't  know  what  ails  them." 

About  then  old  Castor  gives  an  extra  hard 
yank,  snaps  the  other  fish  away  from  Pollux, 
gets  his  wings  in  motion,  and  goes  sailin'  around 
with  the  perch  danglin'  and  slattin'  first  this 
way  and  then  that.  Mr.  Robert  gets  onto 
what's  happening  and  he  just  naturally  dou- 
bles up  on  a  bench  hee-hawin'. 

The  fun  gets  wilder  and  wilder  as  Pollux 
goes  flappin'  up  after  his  mate,  while  Castor,  in 
tryin'  to  toss  the  perch  up  where  he  can  swal- 
low it,  gets  the  cord  wound  around  his  bill  so 
that  it's  sealed  up  as  tight  as  an  express  pack- 


CATCHING  A  SIGNAL  245 

age.  At  that  he  takes  to  the  water  again  and 
goes  thrashin'  about  reckless. 

"  Oh  dear,  oh  dear!  "  squeals  Lola.  "  He's 
chokin'  to  death!  My  poor  pet  is  being  mur- 
dered! How  can  you  sit  there  laughing  at  his 
agony,  Robert?  Help!  Help!" 

"  I  will  save  him,  Lola!  "  sings  out  Jepson. 
11  I  will  save  your  pet!  " 

And  in  he  goes,  patent  leather  shoes,  frock 
coat,  glasses,  and  all,  up  to  his  neck  in  the  cold 
water,  and  splashes  out  to  the  rescue  of  dear 
Castor.  It  wa'n't  any  cinch  job,  though;  for 
Castor  ain't  sure  whether  Jepson  is  a  friend  in 
need  or  is  goin'  to  spring  some  fresh  stunt  on 
him;  but  the  little  man  fin'lly  corners  him  and 
unbuttons  his  bill  for  him. 

"  There!  "  says  Miss  Macintosh,  helpin'  the 
drippin'  Jepson  out  of  the  pool  and  gettin'  a 
side  hold  on  him  with  one  arm.  *  *  That  is  what 
I  call  a  manly  action,"  and  she  casts  a  stony 
glare  at  Mr.  Robert. 

"  Why — er — yes — quite  so,"  says  the  boss, 
tryin'  to  straighten  out  his  face.  "  Much  be- 
yond me,  you  know." 

"  I  haven't  the  slightest  doubt  of  it,  Mr.  El- 
lins,"  says  she. 

"  Then — ah — er — Torchy,  I  think  we'd  bet- 
ter be  going,"  says  he,  and  with  that  we  backs 
off,  leavin'  the  touchin'  tableau  still  on  the 
boards,  with  the  heroic  Jepson  wet  but  a  winner. 


246  TRYING  OUT  TORCHY 

"  Well?  "  says  I,  as  we  gets  to  the  station. 
"  Was  I  a  little  behind  schedule?  " 

"  Oh,  a  miss  is  as  good  as  a  mile,"  says  Mr. 
Robert.  "  But  how  and  when,  for  goodness' 
sake,  Torchy,  did  you  manage  to  think  up  that 
ridiculous  scheme?  " 

"  Ah,  say,  Mr.  Robert,"  says  I,  "  you  don't 
think  you  can  work  things  like  that  out  by 
algebra,  do  you?  That  was  one  off  the  bat.5' 


CHAPTER  XV 

HOW    OLD   HICKOKY   CAME   BACK 

COUESE,  it  was  bein'  kept  a  dead  secivt. 
That's  why  every  last  one  of  us  in  the  Cor- 
rugated gen'ral  offices  knew  all  about  it,  and 
went  buzzin'  around,  talkin'  it  over  under  our 
breath  and  lookin'  solemn.  There 'd  been  some 
little  suspicions  the  afternoon  before ;  but  when 
•Mr.  Robert  shows  up  on  the  tick  of  nine  next 
mornin'  and  buckles  in  to  work,  there  couldn't 
be  any  doubt  but  what  something  serious  was 
the  matter. 

I  don't  know  how  it  spread,  either;  but  by 
ten  o'clock  it  was  all  over  the  shop.  And  the 
size  of  it  was  that  the  old  man  had  gone  to 
pieces.  Uh-huh!  Old  Hickory  himself! 

"  Gee!  "  I  whispers  to  Piddie,  confidential 
and  chummy  for  once.  "  And  I  didn't  suppose 
anything  less'n  a  drop  hammer  could  put  him 
out.  What  was  it?  " 

"  Some  kind  of  a  stroke,  they  say,"  says  Pid- 
die. ' '  We  had  warned  him,  you  know,  over  and 
over.  He  wouldn't  let  up,  though,  not  a  bit. 
And  now  it's  come.  Sad,  isn't  it?  " 

"  Mighty  tough,  I  call  it,"  says  I.    "  Bar- 

247 


248  TRYING  OUT  TOECHY 

rin'  one,  he  was  the  best  boss  I  ever  had.  Heard 
how  bad  off  he  is?  " 

"  Very  critical  state,  I  understand,"  says 
Piddie,  lookin'  as  important  as  if  he'd  just 
come  from  a  consultation.  "  I — er — we  are 
^ery  much  worried." 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  all  he  knew  was  just  what 
the  rest  of  us  did, — that  soon  after  lunch  the 
day  before  Old  Hickory  had  sent  out  a  hurry 
call  for  a  doctor;  that  he'd  been  helped  into  a 
taxi  an  hour  later;  and  that  Mr.  Robert  was  on 
the  job  now.  But  that's  Piddie.  And  at  a  time 
like  this  I  wa'n't  feelin'  gay  enough  to  give  him 
the  proper  calldown. 

"  Good  old  sport!  "  says  I.  "  Hope  he  pulls 
through. ' ' 

I  throws  it  off  easy  and  sort  of  careless ;  but 
just  the  same  I  couldn't  think  of  much  else  all 
the  rest  of  the  day.  For,  somehow,  when  you 
get  right  up  against  a  thing  of  that  kind,  it's 
diff  'rent.  Why,  we'd  always  thought  of  him  as 
some  kind  of  a  human  steam  engine  that  could 
go  on,  day  after  day,  month  after  month,  so  long 
as  the  boilers  were  kept  full  and  the  fires  up. 
Then  there  was  the  other  side  of  him,  that  we  'd 
all  had  glimpses  of  now  and  then ;  and  I  guess 
I  don't  need  to  tell  you  that  the  worst  of  Old 
Hickory  was  on  the  outside. 

So  I  was  attendin'  strictly  to  business  that 
day,  and  not  indulgin'  in  any  josh  interludes, 


HOW  OLD  HICKORY  CAME  BACK    249 

and  wonderin'  why  it  was  I  couldn't  seem  to 
throw  off  the  choky  sensation  I  had  every  time 
I  went  past  the  door  of  that  empty  office.  And 
then  about  four  o'clock  Mr.  Robert  pushes  the 
buzzer  for  me,  and  when  I  gets  in  on  the  carpet 
I  finds  him  jammin'  a  lot  of  papers  hasty  into 
a  document  case. 

"  Here,  Torchy!  "  says  he.  "  These  are  to 
go  right  up  to  the  house.  You  must  get  them 
there  before  four-thirty.  Understand1?  They're 
for — er — Father,  you  know." 

"  Yes,  Sir,"  says  I,  and  I  didn't  think  I  could 
get  up  a  husky  voice  so  sudden.  It  was  hearin' 
Mr.  Robert  call  him  Father  instead  of  Gov- 
ernor, I  guess.  Anyway,  when  we  swapped  a 
quick  glance  I  couldn't  say  whether  it  was  his 
lamps  that  was  blurred  up  so,  or  just  mine. 

"  You've  heard,  I  suppose?  '  says  Mr. 
Robert. 

"  A  hint  or  two,"  says  I.  "  And  I'm  mighty 
sorry,  Sir." 

"  I  know,"  says  he.  "  But  not  a  word  out- 
side. We  don't  know  yet,  and — er —  Get  those 
up  there  before  he  starts." 

So  I  wa'n't  surprised,  when  I  lands  up  at  the 
Ellins  house,  to  find  the  limousine  waitin'  at 
the  curb,  and  the  butler  at  the  front  door  with 
his  hand  on  the  knob. 

11  Papers  for  Mr.  Ellins,"  says  I,  "  from  the 
office." 


250  TRYING  OUT  TOBCHY 


'  Yes,  yes,"  says  the  butler  nervous.  "  Step 
inside.  They're  getting  him  ready,  and  in  a  mo- 
ment now —  Why,  bless  us,  here  he  comes, 
Sir!" 

Now,  I  hadn't  been  figurin'  on  anything  but 
leavin'  the  case  and  scootin'.  I'd  slid  inside, 
and  was  standin'  with  my  back  to  the  stairs, 
when  I  hears  the  deep  breathin'  and  the  slow, 
heavy  steps,  and  I  knew  as  well  as  if  I  had 
eyes  in  the  back  of  my  head  what  was  comin'. 
But  even  then  I  hadn't  figured  on  quite  such  a 
slump^  Maybe  the  boss  was  never  much  on  the 
gazelle  act,  with  his  two  hundred  and  fifty-odd 
weight  and  his  forty-eight  belt  line;  but  he  al- 
ways had  a  sure,  steady  tread,  and  a  sort  of 
husky  swing  to  his  shoulders  that  gave  you  the 
idea  he  was  runnin'  under  a  full  head  of 
steam. 

All  that  was  gone  now,  though.  He  had  one 
arm  draped  limp  over  a  man  nurse,  and  the 
other  restin'  on  the  shoulder  of  his  valet.  But 
it  was  the  sight  of  his  face  that  gave  me  the 
hardest  jolt.  Didn't  have  any  more  color  in  it 
than  a  piece  of  Swiss  cheese,  and  the  rough-cut 
jaw  was  loosened  up  and  flabby.  He  has  his 
chin  down  and  is  watchin'  the  stairs,  so  he  don't 
spot  me  until  he's  right  alongside.  It  wa'n't 
until  then  I  noticed  how  dull  and  soggy  them 
steel  blue  eyes  of  his  had  gone.  As  he  gets 
sight  of  me  the  old  look  flickers  back  for  a  sec- 


HOW  OLD  HICKORY  CAME  BACK    251 

ond,  and  he  even  tries  a  weak  imitation  of  a 
smile. 

"  Well — you  see — Son,"  says  he,  gettin'  it 
out  hard,  "  they're  shipping  me  off  in — in  bad 
order.  What  have  you  there!  ' 

"  Papers  from  Mr.  Eobert,  Sir,"  says  I. 
"  And  I'm  mighty  sorry — we're  all  sorry  to— 

"  Enough  of  that!  "  he  growls.  "  I— I'm 
not  all  in  yet,  not — not  by  a  blamed  sight !  ' 

"  Yes,  Sir,"  says  I.    "  Good-by,  Sir." 

"  Shut  up,"  he  snaps,  "  you  and  your  good- 
bys !  I — I'll  come  back,  you — you  young  whelp, 
to  fire  you  two  or  three  times  more!  Huh! 
Steady  now,  Boys!  Confound  these  clumsy 
feet  of  mine!  Steady!  There,  that's  it.  Here 
we  go,  like — like  a  blasted  three-headed  centi- 
pede suffering  from  corns!  " 

The  last  I  saw  of  him  they  was  wedgin'  him 
into  a  corner  of  the  limousine  with  pillows,  and 
the  man  nurse  was  givin'  him  dope  to  keep  him 
braced  up.  Seems  he  was  bein'  sent  off  where 
he  could  take  the  rest  cure,  and  diff'rent  kinds 
of  baths,  and  get  a  change  of  climate. 

"  It's  only  the  beginning  of  the  end,"  says 
Piddie. 

Guess  that's  about  the  way  we  all  felt;  for 
Mr.  Ellins  wa'n't  the  kind  to  give  up  just  for  a 
toeache,  and  we  knew  that  when  he  let  go  it 
was  because  he  couldn't  hold  on  another  min- 
iate to  save  him. 


252  TRYING  OUT  TORCHY 

For  a  week  or  so  there  wa'ii't  any  news  at 
all.  Mr.  Eobert  would  only  shake  his  head  when 
I  asked  him.  A  little  later  we  begun  to  get 
more  cheerin'  bulletins.  He'd  shipped  off  the 
nurse  and  was  stirrin'  around  by  himself. 

Then  one  day,  when  he'd  been  gone  about  a 
month,  there  comes  a  wire  from  him  askin'  for 
a  confidential  report  on  some  deals  he'd  started 
and  had  left  hangin'.  "  Don't  telegraph,"  he 
says.  "  Send  someone  who  can  answer  ques- 
tions." 

So  Mr.  Eobert  files  this  message: 

Will  send  Mr.  Piddie  with  full  information. 

Piddie's  been  in  there  an  hour  or  two,  havin* 
details  drilled  into  his  head,  and  was  all  swelled 
up  like  a  toad  over  it,  when  there  comes  this 
second  wire  from  the  old  man : 

Piddie  be  blowedt    Post  Torchy  and  send  him  along. 

Mr.  Robert  has  to  grin,  too,  when  he  shows 
me  the  message.  * '  Think  you  can  do  it  ?  "  says 
he. 

11  Looks  like  I  had  to,  don't  it?  "  says  I.  "I 
couldn't  go  back  on  the  boss.  "What's  the 
line?  " 

And  less'n  two  hours  later  I'm  on  my  way 
south,  with  a  few  collars  and  socks  and  things 
in  a  kitbag,  a  lot  of  figures  on  the  back  of  an 


HOW  OLD  HICKORY  CAME  BACK    253 

envelope,  and  my  head  full  of  things  that  would 
have  made  the  market  hum  some  if  I'd  let  'em 
out.  By  afternoon  next  day  I'm  down  in  the 
long-leaf  pine  district,  pilin'  out  of  a  bus  in 
front  of  a  hotel  that  would  fit  snug  in  two  city 
blocks. 

It  was  some  welcome  sight,  too,  not  to  find 
Old  Hickory  bein'  pushed  around  in  a  wheel 
chair.  He  pads  in  on  his  own  feet:  not  quite 
so  springy  as  usual;  but  lookin'  a  lot  better 'n 
I'd  expected  to  see  him. 

"  Huh!  '  says  he.  "  You  look  natural 
enough,  Son." 

"  Same  to  you,  Mr.  Ellins,"  says  I. 

"  Don't  lie  to  me,  Torchy,"  says  he.  "I'm 
an  old  piece  of  junk,  and  I  know  it;  but 
there  are  one  or  two  jobs  I  mean  to  finish  be- 
fore I  go  on  the  scrapheap,  doctors  or  no  doc- 
tors! Now  let's  see  if  we  can  find  a  quiet 
corner  in  this  confounded  antediluvian  retreat, 
and  we'll  get  down  to  business." 

Well,  we  had  a  great  session  of  it,  him  pump- 
in'  out  information  and  makin'  notes  for  orders 
he  meant  to  put  on  the  wire,  and  me  answerinf 
questions. 

"  Good  work !  "  says  he  at  the  finish.  "  You 
have  got  a  head  on  your  shoulders,  after  all; 
and  if  you've  brought  the  facts  all  straight  I 
think  I  can  put  in  a  few  good  licks,  even  at  this 
distance. ' ' 


254  TRYING  OUT  TOECHY 

"  Then  I  jump  the  night  train  back,  do  I?  " 
says  I. 

11  What  for?  "  says  he.  "  Don't  you  like  the 
place?  " 

"  Sure  I  like  it,"  says  I. 

"  Then  suppose  you  knock  abound  here  with 
me  for  a  day  or  so,"  says  he,  "  and  fool  me  into 
believing  I'm  still  alive." 

"Gee!  "says  I.    "Honest?" 

For,  believe  me,  this  Pine  Springs  joint  does 
show  up  some  classy  and  magniferous.  You 
know — miles  of  neat  walks  and  drives,  with 
flowerbeds  and  hedges  at  every  turn,  and  on  all 
sides  just  acres  and  acres  of  smooth  lawns. 
Why,  it  looked  like  the  whole  shootin'  match 
had  been  upholstered  in  green  plush.  Then 
there  was  this  big  hotel,  with  wide  verandas 
fitted  up  comf 'table,  and  off  in  the  distance  the 
tall  pines,  with  the  mountains  behind. 

Could  I  knock  around  there  a  couple  of  days? 
A  couple  of  months,  if  I  was  pushed  to  it !  So 
Mr.  Ellins  tows  me  in  to  the  desk,  and  I  puts  my 
autograph  on  the  book  like  a  reg'lar  plute  guest, 
and  when  the  bellhop  pilots  me  to  my  room  I 
chucks  him  a  dime  just  as  haughty  and  insultin' 
as  I  knew  how. 

It  wa'n't  until  I'd  spent  a  couple  of  hours 
waitin'  while  Old  Hickory  has  some  kind  of 
treatment,  that  I  discovers  how  quick  you  could 
get  used  to  that  sort  of  thing.  By  the  time  I'd 


HOW  OLD  HICKORY  CAME  BACK    255 

done  about  four  laps  around  the  verandas,  in- 
habited only  by  old  ladies  do  in'  baby  Irish 
crochet  in  groups  of  four  or  five,  and  then 
strolled  out  to  the  golf  grounds  and  watched  a 
lot  of  old  duffers  in  white  flannels  pluggin' 
around  the  course,  I  begun  to  get  wise  to  ths 
fact  that,  while  all  this  might  be  nice  to  look  at 
for  a  little  while,  it  wouldn't  be  so  blamed  ex- 
citin'  as  a  steady  diet. 

It  wa'n't  any  more  stirrin'  durin'  the  evenin', 
either,  after  Mr.  Ellins  had  finished  his  mush 
and  milk  and  I'd  galloped  through  a  twelve- 
course  feed.  The  boss  hits  the  feathers  prompt 
at  eight-thirty,  and  I'm  left  to  watch  the  old 
ladies  play  auction  bridge  inside,  or  go  out  on 
the  veranda  and  listen  to  the  old  sports  talk 
golf. 

Near  as  I  could  dope  it  out,  that  was  all  there 
was  to  it, — golf  and  baby  Irish  by  day,  golf  chin 
and  auction  at  night.  And  hardly  a  guest  under 
sixty  to  be  found !  It  was  easy  enough  to  figure 
out  why.  All  you  had  to  do  was  consult  the 
weekly  rate  card.  Take  about  sixty  years 
to  pile  up  enough  gold  reserve  to  stop  at  one  of 
these  joints  more'n  a  day  at  a  time,  unless  yoa 
have  a  lump  left  to  you,  and  then  of  course  you 
want  to  hit  up  some  real  swell  resort  where  the 
live  ones  flock. 

I  was  wonderin'  just  where  Old  Hickory 
fitted  into  that  programme;  but  when  he  ap- 


256  TRYING  OUT  TOBCHY 

pears  for  breakfast  I  knew.  And,  say,  you 
should  have  seen  him  in  tweed  knickers  and  a 
Scotch  cap  and  a  Norfolk  jacket. 

"  Z-z-z-zing!  "  says  I,  "  but  you  don't  look 
much  like  an  invalid  in  them  sporty  togs,  Mr. 
Ellins." 

"  Don't  I?  "  says  he.  "  Well,  I  feel  like  an 
ass  in  'em." 

"  How's  your  game?  "  says  I. 

"  Eh?  "  says  he,  glancin'  suspicious  at 
me.  "  Oh,  I'm  coming  on.  I — er — I'm  going 
out  for  a  little  practice  turn  now." 

"  Can  I  lug  the  clubs?  "  says  I. 

11  Why,"  says  he,  flushin'  a  little,  "  perhaps 
I'd  better  have  my  reg'lar  caddie  do  that.  He 
gives  me  points,  you  see.  And  I  don't  suppose 
you  care  to  come  along. ' ' 

"  Sure  I  would,"  says  I. 

It  struck  me  he  wa'n't  anxious  for  my  com- 
p'ny;  but  as  there  wa'n't  anything  else  on  the 
card  I  just  trails  along  anyway.  Course,  I 
knew  he  wa'n't  any  Travis;  but  I  understood 
he'd  tackled  the  game  before  at  times  and 
wa'n't  in  the  novice  class.  Yet  the  exhibition 
he  puts  up  that  forenoon  was  the  very  punkest 
you  could  imagine.  Think  of  a  man  of  his 
size  swingin'  his  whole  weight  at  a  little  white 
ball  and  only  knockin'  it  a  dozen  feet  at  a  time 
—sometimes  missin'  it  altogether,  too !  Honest^ 
I  got  behind  the  caddie  and  blushed  for  him. 


HOW  OLD  HICKOEY  CAME  BACK    257 

What  puzzled  me  most,  though,  was  the  fact 
that  Old  Hickory  seems  to  have  lost  the  art  of 
cussin'.  You  know  how  he  used  to  rip  'em  out 
in  the  office  when  things  went  wrong?  Well, 
here  he  was,  swattin'  away  at  that  ball,  and 
either  drivin'  it  into  the  ground,  or  just  knock- 
in'  dents  in  the  atmosphere,  and  him  only 
turnin'  red  behind  the  ears  and  never  tearin' 
off  a  single  cuss. 

"  Gee!  "  says  I,  as  he  grunts  disgusted  after 
a  mighty  swing  that  would  have  been  a  corker 
if  the  ball  had  only  been  trained  to  hop  up  a 
few  inches.  "  That's  too  bad,  Mr.  Ellins.  But 
don't  mind  me.  Go  on  and  say  it." 

"  It's  no  use,  Torchy,"  says  he.  "I  ex- 
hausted my  entire  profane  vocabulary  the  first 
two  days.  Didn't  I,  Caddie?  " 

The  caddie  grins  and  nods  his  head. 

"  But  I  don't  believe  it  does  any  good,"  says 
I,  "  keepin'  feelin's  like  that  bottled  up." 

"I'm  sure  it  doesn't,"  says  he.  "  That's  why 
I'm  so  sore  at  that  fool  doctor  of  mine  for 
sentencing  me  to  a  year  at  golf.  Son,  I  '11  never 
be  able  to  play  this  game  in  a  hundred  years." 

' (  Gwan,  Mr.  Ellins !  ' '  says  I.  "I  seen  some 
old  guys  yesterday,  one  of  'em  over  seventy, 
that  could  poke  it  out  quite  some  ways." 

11  I  know,"  says  he.  "  They  can  seem  to  do 
it,  blast  'em!  " 

And  I  couldn't  see  just  why  he  should  be  so 


258  TRYING  OUT  TORCHY 

grouchy  over  it.  But  after  the  turf  cuttin'  was 
finished  and  Old  Hickory  had  beat  it  for  the 
shower  bath,  I  had  a  little  side  talk  with  the 
caddie  on  the  subject.  He's  a  bright,  wise  look- 
in',  half  grown  young  smoke,  and  answers  to 
the  name  of  Milton  Smith. 

"  Milton,"  says  I,  "on  the  level  now — the 
boss  is  pretty  rank  at  this  golf  thing,  ain't 
he?  " 

"  Yassuh,"  says  Milton.    "  Ah  spec  he  is." 

"  Ever  seen  worse?  "  says  I. 

He  admits  he  ain't,  often. 

"  And  he's  too  bad,  eh,  to  get  out  and  play 
in  the  same  class  with  the  average  run  of  these 
old  duffers?  "  says  I. 

Milton  wa'n't  anxious  to  cast  any  asparagus 
on  the  play  of  a  certain  party  who  was  payin' 
him  seven  a  week  reg'lar  for  two  hours'  work  a 
day;  but  by  hard  pumpin'  I  got  enough  out  of 
him  so  I  could  frame  up  a  gen'ral  view  of  the 
situation.  And  that  was  about  it.  Old  Hickory, 
who'd  always  been  a  topnotcher  in  anything 
he'd  ever  tackled,  was  up  against  a  proposition 
now  where  he  didn't  rank  one-two-sixteen. 
And  I  could  guess,  too,  just  how  deep  that  must 
cut  him. 

Also  this  gave  me  the  key  to  his  queer  actions 
that  mornin',  when  he'd  stood  around  more'n 
half  an  hour,  waitin'  idle  while  the  other  old 
sports,  in  bunches  of  twos  and  fours,  had 


HOW  OLD  HICKORY  CAME  BACK    259 

started  off,  and  him  never  bein'  asked  to  join 
in.  They  seemed  to  be  gettin'  a  lot  of  fun  out 
of  it,  too,  joshin'  each  other,  and  makin'  side 
bets  on  the  length  of  their  drives,  and  so  on. 

A  hearty,  husky  lot  of  old  gents  they  looked 
to  be,  and  when  it  came  to  complexions — say, 
I've  seen  that  wild-cherry-bark  tint  here  in 
town, — you  know,  the  kind  that  looks  like  it  was 
burned  in  permanent, — and  I'd  wondered  how 
you  got  it.  I  know  now.  Palm  Beach  or  Nassau 
in  winter,  Pine  Springs  or  Lakewood  durin' 
April,  May,  and  June,  and  either  the  White 
Mountains  or  Bar  Harbor  all  summer.  That's 
the  recipe — and,  believe  me,  it  comes  some  high ! 

It  seems  just  the  sort  of  thing  Mr.  Ellins 
needs,  too,  and  of  course  there  wa'n't  any  ques- 
tion but  what  he  could  afford  it.  At  luncheon 
I  hinted  as  much,  and  the  hint  struck  a  chord. 

'  *  Yes,  I  suppose  so, ' '  says  Old  Hickory,  sigh- 
in'  deep  and  starin'  absentminded  into  his 
soup.  "  And  these  chaps  will  hang  on,  most  of 
them,  into  the  seventies  and  eighties.  Perhaps 
they  are  satisfied  with  this  sort  of  existence,  too ; 
but  I  couldn't  be.  Golf  may  be  all  right  to  fool 
away  a  half-day  with  now  and  then;  but  it 
isn't  a  big  enough  game  for  me  to  live  for  en- 
tirely. Look  at  these  men  here.  Has-beens! 
I've  known  most  of  'em  in  my  time,  and  forgot- 
ten them.  There's  old  Eutter  over  there.  Why, 
we  bought  him  out  and  closed  up  his  smelters 


260  TRYING  OUT  TOECHY 

back  in  '95!  Then  there's  Parkloe,  over  in  the 
corner.  He  quit  somewhere  in  1902  or  1904, — 
heart  trouble,  I  believe.  His  sons  are  running 
the  business  now.  Jellison,  here,  just  at  the 
left,  pulled  out  about  the  same  time.  Couldn't 
stand  the  strain.  Well,  they're  still  on  top  of 
the  sod.  But  what  do  they  amount  to?  Why, 
they  can  still  play  golf.  Bah !  Not  for  me,  Son ! 
I'm  built  different.  Just  the  same,  I'd  give  a 
thousand  dollars — yes,  five — if  I  could  stand 
up  in  front  of  that  bunch  just  once,  and  show 
'em  I  could  hit  the  ball." 

And  if  you  could  have  seen  the  solid  set  to 
that  rugged  jaw  of  Old  Hickory's,  you'd  known 
just  how  hard  he  meant  it. 

' '  Say, ' '  says  I,  gettin '  a  sudden  wild  thought, 
"  suppose  you  could,  just  once?  ' 

"  Then  I'd  call  it  quits  and  take  the  conse- 
quences," says  he  grim  and  determined. 

Well,  I  didn't  spring  my  scheme  then.  In 
fact,  I  wa'n't  wise  enough  to  the  game  to  know 
whether  I  could  pull  it  off  or  not.  First  I  had 
to  have  another  talk  with  Milton.  And  Milton 
dug  up  some  ideas  that  helped.  Next  we  had 
to  see  the  greens  keeper,  who  deals  in  golf  clubs 
as  a  side  line.  At  first  he  didn't  think  he  could 
doctor  up  a  club  the  way  we'd  sketched  it  out; 
but  when  I  took  a  chance  of  promisin'  him  a 
twenty  from  Mr.  Ellins  he  said  maybe  he  might. 
Sure  enough,  he  did,  too.  We  had  the  club  by 


HOW  OLD  HICKORY  CAME  BACK    261 

nine  o'clock  that  night,  and  I'll  bet  that  in  the 
whole  hist'ry  of  golf  there  never  was  one  built 
like  it  before. 

Havin'  started  in,  I  was  bound  to  put  the 
thing  over;  so  by  six  A.M.  next  mornin'  I  had 
dug  Mr.  Ellins  out  of  the  hay,  and  for  an  hour 
and  a  half  him  and  me  and  Milton  rehearsed 
the  act  out  behind  the  hotel  where  nobody  could 
watch  us.  I  was  doin'  the  heavy  coachin'. 

"  Now  remember,  Mr.  Ellins,"  says  I,  "  you 
ain't  tryin'  to  knock  the  cover  off.  Just  hit  it 
clean.  You  got  to  hit  it.  You  can,  too,  if  you 
just  follow  Milton's  directions  close.  Now — 
weight  on  your  right  foot,  draw  back  slow, 
swing  clear  through;  and,  whatever  else  you 
forget,  keep  your  eye  on  the  ball !  There !  You 
looked  up  then.  Say,  this  ain't  baseball,  you 
know.  Matty  ain't  out  there  pitchin'  high 
twisters.  There's  the  ball  on  the  ground.  Now 
once  more!  Yes,  and  you  let  go  of  that  right 
knee  then.  If  you  was  diggin'  a  trench  that 
would  be  elegant  form;  but  you  ain't  buryin' 
the  ball,  you  know.  You're  tryin'  to  swat  it. 
Again!  That's  the  trick!  Square  on  the  nose! 
Say,  that  was  a  poke,  that  was!  Now  repeat.'* 

Oh,  I  rubbed  it  into  him  like  I  was  a  drill 
sergeant.  And  he  stood  for  it.  At  that,  though, 
I  wa'n't  sure  he  could  do  it  when  the  time 
came. 

But  after  a  good  breakfast  we  went  to  the 


262  TRYING  OUT  TORCHY 

scratch  manful  and  noble.  I'd  timed  it  so  we 
got  our  ball  down  just  behind  a  foursome  and 
in  front  of  a  syndicate.  There  was  ten  or  a 
dozen  old  sports  in  this  syndicate  game, — you 
know,  where  everyone  pays  the  low  man  a  ball 
at  each  hole, — and  they  was  all  bunched  around 
the  home  tee,  waitin '  their  turn  to  start,  when  I 
gives  the  signal  and  up  marches  Old  Hickory, 
with  Milton  carryin'  the  clubs  and  extra  equip- 
ment. 

Say,  it  was  some  bluff  for  a  duffer  player 
like  Mr.  Ellins  to  spring,  too.  Milton  tees  the 
ball  up  careful,  and  then  hops  on  the  sand  box, 
unlimbers  a  long  pair  of  field  glasses,  and  pre- 
pares to  watch  where  the  ball  goes.  At  that  I 
grabs  the  megaphone  and  begins  to  shout 
' '  Fore !  Fore !  "  at  the  top  of  my  lungs — with 
the  nearest  player  in  sight  a  good  three  hun- 
dred yards  down  the  course. 

I  thought  that  would  get  'em  goin'.  And  it 
did.  The  syndicate  bunch  stopped  their  joshin' 
and  practice  swings  and  gathers  around  with 
their  eyes  bugged  and  their  mouths  open. 

"  For  Heaven's  sake,  Ellins,"  says  one, 
"  how  far  do  you  expect  to  drive?  ' 

' '  Fore !  Fore !  "  I  yells.  * '  All  right  now, 
Mr.  Ellins;  I  guess  they're  away  in  front. 
Let  'er  go!  ' 

And  Old  Hickory  is  right  there  with  his 
good  eye.  He  draws  back  careful,  swings  with 


HOW  OLD  HICKORY  CAME  BACK    263 

all  his  might,  but  steady,  and  carries  through 
lovely.  There's  a  crack  like  snappin'  a  whip, 
and  Milton  gets  up  on  his  tiptoes  with  the 
glasses. 

"  Yassuh,  yassuh!  "  says  he  excited.  "  I  see 
it,  Suh!  Ovah  the  secon'  bunkah,  Suh!  ': 

"  What?  "  gasps  the  syndicate  crowd. 
"  Drove  the  second  bunker!  " 

But  Old  Hickory  follows  directions.  He  don't 
stop  to  answer  any  fool  questions,  but  swings 
his  club  jaunty  and  starts  down  the  line,  with 
me  and  Milton,  still  carryin'  the  megaphone  and 
field  glasses,  pushin'  eager  behind.  He'd 
turned  the  trick!  He'd  shown  that  bunch  he" 
could  hit  the  ball,  and  even  if  we  did  quit  and 
sneak  back  to  the  clifb  house  as  soon  as  we  got 
out  of  sight,  we'd  put  it  over! 

Find  the  ball  1  Sure  we  did.  Had  it  with  us 
all  the  time,  in  fact.  Never  heard  of  a  hollow 
headed  driver  with  a  rubber  valve  facin',  I  ex- 
pect? Well,  it  wa'n't  all  my  invention,  for 
Milton  and  the  greens  keeper  helped  out ;  and  it 
was  Milton  suggested  puttin'  the  powder  cap  in- 
side the  club  head  to  make  the  crack  when  the 
ball  was  scooped  up.  And  for  a  fake  drive  it 
was  a  most  convincing  performance.  I'll  bet 
five  years  from  now  they'll  still  be  tellin',  down 
there  at  Pine  Springs,  how  Old  Hickory  Ellins 
once  drove  the  second  bunker. 

That  wa'n't  the  best  of  it,  though.    Mr.  El- 


264  TRYING  OUT  TOBCHY 

lins  was  so  braced  up  and  tickled  over  the  act 
that  he  has  the  nerve  to  send  for  a  big  special- 
ist who  was  down  there  on  a  vacation,  and  call 
for  an  estimate  on  how  long  he  would  last  if 
he  quit  the  golf  business  then  and  there  and 
went  back  to  his  desk.  I  was  on  hand  to  hear 
the  verdict,  too. 

"  Last?  "  says  the  specialist,  after  he's 
thumped  him  all  over.  "  Well,  I  can't  say  as 
to  that,  Mr.  Ellins, — perhaps  ten  years,  per- 
haps twenty, — but  I'll  say  this :  if  you  quit  busi- 
ness now,  and  try  to  satisfy  that  ninety  horse- 
power temperament  of  yours  with  nothing  but 
golf,  I  wouldn't  guarantee  you  two  years." 

' '  But — but  see  here !  ' '  gasps  Old  Hickory. 
"  I've  had  a  slight  stroke,  you  know." 

11  Bosh!  "  says  the  specialist.  "  Who  told 
you  that, — Nivens?  I  thought  so.  That's  his 
line.  Can't  see  anything  else,  you  know.  Touch 
of  acute  indigestion,  more  likely,  with  a  little 
rheumatism  and  gout  to  help  along.  Why, 
you're  as  sound  as  an  oak  plank!  " 

"  And  I  needn't  devote  the  rest  of  my  life 
to  golf!  "  says  Mr.  Ellins. 

"  Not  unless  you  want  to  cut  it  short,"  says 
he.  "  That's  another  of  Nivens'  fads.  Ask 
him  why  he  doesn't  do  it  himself.  He's  rich 
enough.  But  he  doesn't  quit,  does  he?  He  still 
makes  his  hundred  thousand  a  year,  puts  in 
six  hours  of  office  work  a  day,  and  plays  a 


HOW  OLD  HICKORY  CAME  BACK    265 

wretched  game  of  golf  at  odd  times.  So  may 
you,  if  you  choose." 

"  Whe-e-e  yow!  "  explodes  Mr.  Ellins. 
"  Torchy,  go  get  those  blasted  golf  clubs  of 
mine.  I  want  to  prop  'em  against  a  chair  and 
jump  on  'em.  Then  see  about  our  reserva- 
tions for  the  next  train.  I  mean  to  be  back 
at  my  desk  before  closing  time  to-morrow,  and 
inside  of  forty-eight  hours  I  guess  that  Guggen- 
heim crowd  will  find  there's  more  or  less  fight 
left  in  Old  Hickory  Ellins  yet!  " 

Eh?  Well,  say,  you  just  keep  your  eye  on 
the  Wall  Street  news  for  the  next  few  days. 
Yes,  yes!  He's  on  the  job. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

SPEEDING  UP  UNCLE  ANDY 

"  How  now,  Torchy?  "  says  Mr.  Robert,  here 
the  other  mornin',  as  he  stops  by  the  brass  gate 
to  size  up  my  radiant  frontispiece.  ' '  She  must 
be  back,  eh?  " 

"  Uh-huh,"  says  I.  "  Think  I'd  be  wearin' 
this  face  just  on  account  of  the  weather!  " 

* '  Good !  ' '  says  he.  ' '  And  I  hope  Aunty  is 
well,  also?  " 

"  You  get  your  wish  then,"  says  I.  "  Trust 
a  lemon  for  keepin'." 

11  Oh-ho!  "  says  he.  "  Aunty  still  a  little 
cool  to  you,  is  she?  " 

"  Cool !  "  says  I.  "  Say,  after  I've  been  near 
her  two  minutes  I  know  how  that  Swede  pole 
picker  felt  when  he  was  makin'  notes  at  90 
south." 

Eh?  Oh,  all  right.  Little  jiggly  music  there, 
please,  and  I'll  try  to  sketch  it  out  for  you. 
You  see,  it  had  been  weeks  and  weeks,  and  all 
the  line  I'd  had  on  Miss  Vee  was  now  and  then 
a  picture  postcard  showin'  real  palms  growin* 
in  front  of  big  hotels  and  folks  wearin'  summer 
suits.  That  when  I  was  wadin'  through  bliz- 

266 


SPEEDING  UP  UNCLE  ANDY      267 

zards  and  dodgin'  grip  epidemics.  Say,  why 
don't  we  cop  out  a  few  of  those  West  Indies  and 
get  John  D.  to  pipe  the  climate  up  here  ? 

Then  for  awhile  there  wa'n't  even  a  postal, 
and  I'd  begun  to  think  I'd  been  scratched  off 
Vee's  list  for  good,  when  here  one  Saturday 
afternoon,  as  I  was  wanderin'  lonesome  up  to- 
wards the  park,  I  gets  a  glimpse  of  some  slim 
ankles  and  a  long  waisted  walkin'  jacket,  and  a 
hint  of  straw  colored  hair  under  a  nobby  spring 
lid,  and  I  has  a  thrill  somewhere  below  my  vest 
pocket  that  I  knew  couldn't  be  any  false  alarm. 

The  straight  backed  old  girl  with  her  I  could 
locate  as  Aunty  on  a  guess;  but  the  heavy  old 
gink  that  was  walkin'  flat  footed  on  the  out- 
side I  couldn't  place  at  all.  The  three  of  'em 
was  nearly  a  block  ahead;  but  I  wa'n't  long  in 
puttin'  steam  into  my  footwork,  and  I'd  just 
got  within  hailin'  distance  when  hanged  if  they 
don't  swing  into  a  big  gray  buildin'  and  dis- 
appear. I  was  for  takin'  all  chances,  though ;  so 
it's  me  up  the  steps  after  'em,  and  I  was  push- 
in'  right  past  the  entrance  when  an  old  guy  in 
brass  buttons  blocks  me  off. 

' ;  Ticket,  young  man !  ' '  says  he. 

"  Ah,  that's  all  right,"  says  I.  "  Left  my 
annual  pass  in  my  evenin'  clothes." 

He  wouldn't  fall  for  that,  though,  and  steers 
me  up  to  a  window  where  another  old  geezer 
is  passin'  out  pasteboards  at  fifty  a  throw. 


268  TRYING  OUT  TOBCHY 

"  What  for!  "  says  I.    "  What's  the  bill?  " 

"  Paintings,"  says  he.  "  This  is  the  Acad- 
emy's spring  exhibit,  you  know." 

"  And  you  got  the  nerve  to  tax  me  a  half 
just  for  that?  "  says  I.  "  Say,  honest,  pass  me 
through  and  I'll  turn  my  back  on  'em." 

It  was  a  case  of  comin'  across  with  the  coin 
or  stayin'  out,  though.  "  Any  rain  check?  ': 
says  I. 

"  Nothing  of  the  sort,"  says  he.  "  These  are 
oils,  not  water  colors." 

"  You  score,"  says  I,  as  I  anties  a  split  bean. 
"  Gimme  one  standin'  room.  And  did  you  no- 
tice which  way  that  last  trio  went?  '  , 

He  couldn't  say;  so  I  roams  in,  makes  a  turn 
at  random,  and  finds  myself  in  a  big  hall  with 
the  walls  just  plastered  reckless  with  hand 
painted  work  of  all  kinds.  Don't  they  use  up 
a  lot  of  paint,  though,  these  artists  ?  And  sling- 
in'  it  around  careless  that  way,  it's  a  wonder 
to  me  they  never  get  any  on  the  gold  frames. 

Course,  I'd  paid  for  all  the  looks  I  was  a 
mind  to  take;  but  one  or  two  glances  at  the 
nearest  specimens  was  enough.  Maybe  they 
was  all  right  picture s^  but  nothin'  to  get  ex- 
cited over.  Besides,  I  knew  of  an  unlisted 
exhibit  that  was  really  worth  lookin'  at,  if  I 
could  find  it. 

As  there  wa'n't  any  great  crush,  it  was  dead 
easy.  I  hadn't  gone  down  the  line  very  far  be- 


SPEEDING  UP  UNCLE  ANDY      269 

fore  I  spots  old  flat-foot  gawpin'  up  at  one  of 
the  numbers  sort  of  mushy  and  sentimental. 
Alongside  him  was  Aunty,  her  gold  lorgnette 
up  critical;  and  a  little  behind,  lookin'  sort  of 
bored,  was  Miss  Vee  herself.  And,  say,  she 
don 't  get  over  it !  M-m-m-m !  Same  strawb  'ry 
icecream  tint  on  her  cheeks,  same  cute  little 
ears,  same  chirky  tilt  to  her  pink  chin. 

Needn't  think  I  stood  off  there  with  my  feet 
glued  to  the  floor  for  long,  though.  Just  then 
another  bunch  comes  shovin'  along,  and  I 
pushes  right  in  with  'em.  A  minute  more  and 
I'm  up  where  I  can  reach  out  and  give  one  of 
her  free  hands  a  quick  squeeze.  She  turns  in 
a  flash,  flushin'  indignant,  and  the  sparks  was 
dartin'  out  of  them  big  gray  eyes  before  she 
finally  discovers  who  it  is.  At  that  she  slips 
back  and  returns  the  squeeze. 

* '  Why,  Torchy !  ' '  she  whispers.  * '  How  did 
you  ever  find  us  here?  " 

"  Cost  me  a  half,"  says  I.  "  But  I  ain't 
kickin'.  It's  worth  double.  Say,  you  look  bet- 
ter to  me  than  any — " 

"  S-s-h !  "  says  Vee,  shuttin'  off  the  flow  with 
a  gray  kid  glove.  "  Aunty  might  hear." 

"What  then?"  says  I.  "Can't  an  old 
friend  pass  you  the  compliments  of  the  sea- 
son? " 

"  But  you  don't  understand,"  says  she. 
"  Aunty's  getting  to  be  very  strict.  You  see, 


270  TRYING  OUT  TOECHY 

she  has  decided  on  someone  at  last,  and  we — 
we've  disagreed.    I  think  he's  just  horrid!  " 

"  Not  old  flat-foot,  there?  "  says  I. 

"  No,  no!  "  says  Vee.    ''It's  Snappy  West- 
lake.    He's  jolly  well  off,  though,  and  he's  in 
jthe  right  set,  and — " 

"  I  fall,"  says  I.  "  You're  bein'  shooed  his 
way,  and  she's  tryin'  to  pin  the  *  Keep  Off  ' 
sign  on  you.  But  I  don't  count,  do  I?  " 

"  Aunty  can  be  silly  over  a  lot  of  things," 
says  Vee.  "  She  found  out  about  the  postals, 
and  she  remembers  how  you  and  I —  Well,  we 
had  quite  a  talk." 

"  Good  old  Aunty!  "  says  I.  "  Then  I'd  be 
apt  to  be  left  on  the  mat  if  I  came  around,  eh?  " 

"  She  wouldn't  like  it  at  all,  I'm  sure,"  says 
Vee.  "  But  I'll  tell  you  something — Uncle 
Andy  lives  next  door!  " 

"  Him?  "  says  I,  pointin'  to  flat-foot. 

That  was  it.  Seems  he  wa'n't  a  reg'lar 
uncle:  only  an  old  friend  of  Aunty's. 

"  But  where  does  that  help?  "  says  I. 

"  Stupid!  "  says  Vee.  "  Next  door,  I  said," 
and  I  see  a  twinkle  in  them  big  eyes. 

1  '  Gee !  ' '  says  I.  * '  But  I  was  on  the  freight, 
wa'n't  I?  Me  for  Uncle  Andy!  What's  his 
special  line?  " 

"  Why,  he's  a  widower,"  says  she,  "  and 
spends  most  of  his  time  mooning  about  telling 
what  an  angel  his — but  they're  moving  on. 


SPEEDING  UP  UNCLE  ANDY      271 

Good-by,  Torchy.  Quick  now — Aunty's  turn- 
ing around!  " 

So  I  ducks  behind  a  fat  woman,  does  a  sud- 
den sneak  to  the  rear,  and  the  reunion  was  all 
off.  I'm  left  with  a  whole  lot  of  uncorked  con- 
versation, to  watch  Vee  go  driftin'  down  the 
gallery.  Annoyin'!  I  felt  like  a  cat  on  a  tin 
roof.  And  all  the  helpful  hint  Vee  can  throw 
out  is  that  Uncle  Andy  lived  somewhere  next 
door.  Say,  that  was  grand,  wa'n't  it — spe- 
cially as  I  didn't  know  him  from  last  Friday 
week? 

"  It's  either  a  case  of  breakin'  and  enterin'," 
thinks  I,  "or  of  pushin'  my  luck.  Anyway,  I 
guess  I'll  stick  around  and  see  what  happens." 

Come  to  think  it  over,  too,  I  can't  say  whether 
I  just  fell  into  it,  or  had  it  handed  to  me.  But 
I  was  taggin'  along  when  Uncle  Andy  takes  it 
into  his  head  to  drop  out  of  the  procession  and 
camp  down  on  a  red  plush  sofa,  leavin'  the 
others  to  go  on  around  by  themselves.  He's 
sort  of  a  friendly  lookin',  goat  faced  old  bunch 
of  works ;  some  puffy  under  the  eyes,  but  with  a 
good  color  on  his  face,  and  most  of  his  hair  left. 

There  wa'n't  any  time  to  plot  out  a  cam- 
paign ;  so  I  pikes  straight  for  him,  squats  close 
alongside,  and  goes  to  sizin'  up  the  same  pic- 
ture he's  gazin'  at  so  slushy.  It's  of  a  sweet 
young  thing  all  in  white  bendin'  over  a  rose- 
bush. 


272  TRYING  OUT  TOECHY 

"  Some  queen,  eh?  "  says  I,  like  I  was  think* 
in'  aloud. 

11  Beg  pardon?  "  says  he. 

"  Nothin'  worth  mentionm',"  says  I;  "  only 
the  young  party  there  in  the  garden  strikes  me 
as  real  classy." 

11  Ah!  You  like  it,  do  you?  "  says  he,  kind 
of  warmin'  up.  "  It  reminds  me  of  someone 
who  was  very  dear  to  me;  someone,  I  might 
say,  who  is  still  very  dear." 

"  The  wife?  "  says  I. 

"  Yes,"  says  he,  "  my  dear  wife." 

"  Gone,  eh?  "  says  I. 

"  These  five  years,"  says  he,  diggin'  out  a 
handkerchief  and  proceedin'  to  swab  his  eyes. 

"Well,  well!"  says  I.  "That's  rough. 
Looked  some  like  that  when  she  was  younger, 
did  she?  " 

"  The  eyes  are  strangely  like  hers,"  says  he; 
"  only  my  Alicia  had  a  much  gentler,  sweeter 
expression.  It  was  in  a  rose  garden  that  I  first 
met  her,  too." 

' '  Think  of  that !  ' '  says  I,  with  the  sympathy 
stop  pulled  clear  out.  "  Can  you  beat  it?  Cute 
name,  Alicia.  Got  plain  Alice  skinned  a  mile, 
ain't  it?  Sometime  back,  that  garden  episode 
was,  I  expect?  ' 

Does  he  get  the  cue?  Say,  inside  of  three 
minutes  I  was  hearin'  the  story  of  Alicia,  from 
the  time  he  first  saw  her  home  from  meeting 


SPEEDING  UP  UNCLE  ANDY      273 

down  through  the  sleigh  ridin'  and  singin' 
school  period,  to  the  big  event  when  she  finally 
sponged  all  the  other  entries  off  the  board  and 
let  Andy  fit  on  the  ring.  And  me?  Say,  I'll 
bet  he  never  run  across  any  small  but  select 
audience  that  had  anything  on  me  in  the  listen- 
in'  line,  or  who  would  come  back  for  more 
with  a  straighter  face.  For  he  sure  was 
windy  when  it  come  to  thro  win'  in  the  mushy 
details. 

11  Hers  was  the  kind  of  loveliness,"  he  goes 
on,  "  which  never  faded.  As  a  girl  she  was 
beautiful;  but  as  a  woman  she  was  charming. 
You  should  see  a  portrait  I  had  painted  of  her 
when  she  was  twenty-five." 

"Gee!':  says  I,  drawin'  in  my  breath. 
"  Wish  I  could." 

"  Then  you  must,"  says  he,  pattin'  me  on  the 
shoulder.  *  *  You  must,  indeed. ' ' 

Can  you  see  me  disputin'  him?  I  let  him  plan 
it  all  out  how  the  very  next  day  I  was  to  come 
up  and  have  Sunday  afternoon  tea  with  him 
and  inspect  all  the  pictures  of  Alicia  he  had  in 
stock. 

"It  is  unusual,  I  presume,"  says  he,  "  but 
I've  taken  a  great  fancy  to  you,  my  boy;  and 
if  you  don't  mind  listening  to  a  prosy  old 
man — " 

"  I  can  stand  it  if  you  car,"  says  I. 
41  What's  the  address?  " 


274  TRYING  OUT  TOECHY 

"  Thomas  is  my  name,"  says  he,  "  Andrew 
V.  Thomas,  and  I  live  at  Pelham  on  the  Sound." 

"  You  do!  "  says  I,  workin'  up  business  of 
surprise.  "  Why,  there's  a  young  lady  friend 
of  mine  lives  right  next  door  to  you — Miss 
Vee." 

'  *  Yes,  yes !  ' '  says  he.  * '  And  so  you  are  a 
young  friend  of  Verona's?  Why,  my  boy,  she 
and  her  aunt  were  with  me  only  a  moment  ago. 
Come,  we  will  find  them." 

"  Sorry,  but  I'll  have  to  renig  this  time," 
says  I.  "  Maybe  you  could  fix  it  up  to  have 
her  drop  in  to-morrow,  though;  that  is,  leavin' 
Aunty  out.  I  ain't  so  strong  for  Aunty,"  and 
with  that  I  tips  him  the  wink. 

1 '  He,  he !  "  chuckles  Uncle  Andy.  ' '  I  under- 
stand. But  we'll  arrange  that.  You  come  up 
to-morrow. ' ' 

"  You  can  gamble  on  that,"  says  I.  "  It's 
as  sure  as  Fourth  of  July." 

So  it's  me  for  Pelham,  all  dolled  up  in  my 
new  checked  spring  suit  and  baby  blue  tie  and 
the  silk  socks  I  got  for  Easter.  And  I'd  doped 
out  how  Vee  and  I  would  stand  for  Uncle 
Andy's  fond  recollections  for  about  ten  min- 
utes on  a  stretch  and  then  throw  the  switch  on 
him.  But  what  do  you  guess!  Why,  he'd 
bugged  the  scheme  entirely,  and  instead  of  just 
Vee  on  the  side  veranda,  there  was  Aunty,  too. 
And  when  Uncle  Andy  appears  to  greet  me  at 


SPEEDING  UP  UNCLE  ANDY      275 

the  front  door  he  has  his  hanky  out  and  his 
eyelids  is  all  red. 

"  Don't  mind  me,  my  boy,"  says  he.  "  We 
were  just  talking  of  dear  Alicia.  Come  right 
out  and  join  us." 

"  If  it's  all  the  same  to  you,"  says  I,  "  maybe 
I'd  better  sidestep.  Aunty  here  for  the  after- 
noon, is  she?  " 

"  Oh,  I  had  forgotten,"  says  he.  "  No,  she 
will  be  going  back  for  her  nap  soon." 

"  Then  suppose  I  just  slide  inside  easy  and 
wait  until  she  does  her  flit?  "  says  I. 

He  agrees  to  that,  pilots  me  in  where  I  can 
get  a  view  through  the  curtains,  hands  me  a 
magazine,  and  goes  back  to  Aunty. 

"  As  I  was  saying,"  I  hears  him  remark, 
"  there  never  was  another  like  dear  Alicia. 
She  was  the  gentlest,  kindest — " 

Well,  I  can't  remember  the  whole  oration,  but 
Uncle  Andy  sure  was  spreadin'  it  on  thick  and 
mushy,  and  all  the  response  I  could  make  out 
as  comin'  from  Aunty  was  now  and  then  a 
snort.  At  last  she  breaks  in. 

"  Humph!  "  says  she.  "  Don't  you  think 
that's  about  enough  for  one  afternoon?  " 

*  *  Why — why,  my  dear  Sarah !  "  he  protests. 
' '  I — I  don 't  know  what  you  mean. ' ' 

"  Then  I'll  make  it  clear,"  says  Aunty, 
snappin'  it  off  crisp  and  decided.  "  Do  you 
realize,  Andrew,  just  how  many  times  during 


276  TRYING  OUT  TOECHY 

the  past  five  years  you  have  been  through  this 
same  rigmarole?  And  how  many  times  you 
have  wept  on  me?  Why,  you  have  sobbed  on 
my  shoulder  until  I've  been  positively  damp 
from  it!  It's  getting  monotonous!  " 

"  But— but,  Sarah!"  snuffles  Uncle  Andy. 
*'  You  know  that  Alicia  was — " 

"  I  know  all  about  Alicia,"  Aunty  breaks  in. 
"  I  ought  to.  We  went  to  boarding  school  to- 
gether. She  was  a  nice,  lovable  girl,  and  she 
made  you  a  good  wife;  but  she  was  no  angel. 
She  was  vain,  and  indolent,  and  a  trifle  selfish. 
She  cared  more  about  keeping  her  figure  and 
complexion  than  for  anything  else  on  earth,  and 
you  know  it  as  well  as  I.  Besides,  why  go 
sniffling  and  moping  about  all  the  rest  of  your 
life?  " 

"  You — you  don't  understand,  Sarah,"  pro- 
tests Uncle  Andy.  "I'm  a  lonely,  wretched 
old  man  without  her." 

"  Then  it's  time  you  found  another,"  says 
Aunty. 

"  Why — why,  Sarah!  "  gasps  Uncle  Andy. 

11  I  mean  it,"  says  Aunty.  "  That's  what's 
the  matter  with  you.  You  need  a  wife.  I  de- 
cided that  sometime  ago,  and  for  the  last  month 
I've  been  giving  you  a  chance  to  find  it  out  for 
yourself.  Why  else  do  you  suppose  I've  been 
carting  you  around  and  introducing  you  so 
much?  Come,  now,  haven't  you  met  at  least 


SPEEDING  UP  UNCLE  ANDY      277 

half  a  dozen  attractive  women  at  my  house  dur- 
ing the  last  fortnight?  " 

"  But — but  I  never  dreamed,  Sarah,"  says 
Uncle  Andy,  "  that— that— " 

"  Which  only  shows  what  a  ninny  you  are, 
then,"  observes  Aunty.  "  Now  tell  me — were- 
n't you  interested  in  any  of  them?  " 

11  Why,"  says  Uncle,  fidgetin'  some  in  his 
chair  and  pinkin'  up  kind  of  guilty,  "  that 
young  Miss  Dickinson  was  a — a — " 

"  Fiddlesticks!  "  comes  back  Aunty.  "  And 
you  almost  old  enough  to  be  her  grandfather! 
What  about  Annie  Leavitt?  " 

"  The  old  maid  schoolteacher?  "  says  Uncle 
Andy. 

"  What  if  she  is  an  old  maid?  "  demands 
Aunty.  * '  That  was  only  because  she  took  care 
of  an  invalid  mother  for  so  many  years.  But 
she's  still  under  forty-five,  and  she  is  a  cul- 
tured, capable  woman.  And  she  was  not  merely 
a  schoolteacher.  She  was  principal  of  a  girls' 
high  school.  She  has  made  two  trips  abroad. 
She  has  just  inherited  ten  thousand  dollars ;  so 
she  is  by  no  means  dependent.  And  she  is 
rather  good  looking." 

"  That's  a  fact,"  admits  Uncle  Andy. 
"  Splendid  shoulders.  Fine  brown  eyes,  too. 
But  do  you  think,  Sarah,  that  I  would — er — 
that  is—" 

"  I  shouldn't  wonder,"  says  Aunty.    "  I've 


278  TRYING  OUT  TORCHY 

talked  with  her  about  you.  She  thinks  you  have 
a  lovely  home  here,  and  she  agrees  with  me 
that  you  need  a  wife  very  badly.  Also  she  has 
an  idea  that  you  are  an  interesting  talker.  You 
see,  she  hasn't  had  such  a  dose  of  Alicia  as  I 
have.  But  the  only  way  to  really  find  out  is  to 
ask  her  yourself,  Andrew." 

11  But,  Sarah,"  says  he,  holdin'  up  both  his 
hands — "  Why,  I've  hardly  given  her  a 
thought." 

"  Yes,  you  have,"  says  Aunty.  "  You've  no- 
ticed her  shoulders  and  her  eyes.  So  let's  not 
beat  about  the  bush.  I've  had  her  visiting  me 
for  the  last  week,  and  I  can't  ask  her  to  stay 
much  longer.  So  come  over  right  away  and  get 
the  business  done  with." 

"  What,  now?  "  gasps  Uncle  Andy. 

"  Why  not?  "  says  Aunty.  "  She's  waiting 
in  the  garden.  You  see,  I  promised  her  I'd  send 
you  over.  Come,  Verona,  I  must  have  my 
nap. ' ' 

And  just  as  though  it  had  been  a  matter  of 
borrowin'  a  cup  of  sugar  that  she'd  settled, 
Aunty  gets  up  and  sails  down  the  side  steps, 
leavin'  Uncle  Andy  sittin'  there  with  his  mouth 
open  and  his  eyes  bugged.  As  Vee  goes  by  the 
window,  I  pushes  back  the  curtain  and  gives 
her  the  hail  easy. 

"  You!  "  says  she.  "  How  did  you  manage 
it?" 


SPEEDING  UP  UNCLE  ANDY      279 

"  Tell  you  later,"  says  I.  "  And  say,  ain't 
there  room  for  another  couple  in  that  garden  I  ' ' 

"  Silly!  "  says  she.  "  Try  for  yourself," 
and  as  she  follows  Aunty  she  throws  back  over 
her  shoulder  one  of  them  quizzin'  smiles. 

It's  a  good  three  minutes,  though,  before 
Uncle  Andy  comes  out  of  his  trance  and  strolls 
in.  "  Did  you  hear?  "  says  he. 

"  Sure,"  says  I.  "  And  say,  Aunty  has  got 
the  Bunty  business  down  to  a  science,  ain't 
she?  " 

"  But  what  am  I  to  do,"  says  he,  "  with 
Miss  Leavitt  waiting  there  in  the  garden?  " 

"  Do?  "  says  I.  "  Why,  go  to  it.  She  suits, 
don't  she?  " 

11  I — I  suppose  she  does,"  says  he.  "  In  fact, 
she  is  a  most  charming  woman.  But  I — I 
hardly  know  what  to  say,  how  to  begin." 

' '  Ah,  piffle !  ' '  says  I.  '  *  When  they  get  past 
forty  with  never  a  nibble  you  can  shy  the  pre- 
liminaries. Just  cuddle  up  and  shoot  off  the 
Romeo  stuff  impromptu.  It'll  get  over." 

11  Do  you  think  so?  "  says  he.  "  But  how 
do  I  look?  " 

"  Fine  and  dandy,"  says  I.  "  That  is  bar- 
rin'  the  sloppy  hitch  to  your  necktie.  Here, 
lemme  haul  it  up  so  the  collar  meets  in  front. 
There!  That's  better.  And  there's  a  little 
dandruff  on  your  coat.  Got  a  whisk  broom 
handy  ?  Now,  if  you  shift  those  bunion  slippers 


280  TRYING  OUT  TORCHY 

for  your  best  patent  leathers,  and  let  me  smooth 
the  nap  of  your  silky  sky-piece  while  you  hunt 
up  a  walkin'  stick  and  some  yellow  gloves,  I'll 
back  you  both  ways.  That's  the  stuff!  Why, 
you  look  like  odds-on  now.  Throw  your  shoul- 
ders back,  step  springy,  and  remember  that  it's 
been  sometime  since  Annie  even  sorted  over  the 
discards." 

Some  diff  'rent  Sunday  afternoon  programme 
than  what  we'd  laid  out,  wa'n't  it?  But  it  suits 
me  just  as  well;  and  you  should  have  seen 
the  way  Uncle  Andy  braces  up  to  it.  I  leaves 
him  to  go  round  and  enter  proper  by  the  front 
gate,  while  I  shins  over  the  side  fence. 

It's  a  perfectly  good  garden  for  the  kind, 
with  a  lot  of  windin'  paths  and  shrubbery,  and 
a  cute  little  summerhouse  balanced  on  a  rock 
in  the  middle.  And,  sure  enough,  there's  An- 
nie inside,  rockin'  away  placid  in  a  rustic  chair, 
and  lettin'  on  to  be  readin'  a  book.  Rather  a 
plump,  stylish  lookin'  party,  Annie  seems  to 
be ;  with  a  few  streaks  of  gray  in  her  hair  and 
a  sort  of  comf 'table,  motherly  air  about  her. 

I  was  scoutin'  around  at  a  safe  distance,  one 
eye  on  her  and  the  other  on  the  path,  when  I 
hears  a  giggle  from  behind  a  big  syringa  bush. 

"  Oh,  you  Vee!  ':  says  I.  "  I've  tagged 
you."  But  there's  a  swish  and  a  rustle,  and 
away  she  goes. 

Well,  I  sprints  after  her,  followin'  the  sound; 


SPEEDING  UP  UNCLE  ANDY      281 

but  it's  quite  some  time  before  I  corners  her  at 
the  end  of  a  grape  arbor. 

"  A-ha!  "  says  I.  "I  thought  you'd  be  out 
lookin'  for  me." 

"  Pooh!  "  says  she.  "  I  didn't  mean  to  let 
you  catch  me  at  all.  I  just  came  out  to  see  how 
Uncle  Andy  was  getting  along." 

"  Let's,  then,"  says  I.  "  Ain't  it  rich, 
though?  Why,  the  old  sport  started  as  kitten- 
ish as  a  three-year-old.  "Where  can  we  get  good 
reserved  seats?  ' 

11  I  know,"  says  Vee,  chucklin'.  "  Come 
along,"  and  she  leads  the  way  to  a  clump  of 
bushes  that  makes  a  sort  of  a  screen  between 
the  summerhouse  and  the  back  of  the  garden. 
From  behind  that  we  was  just  as  good  as  sit- 
tin'  in  orchestra  chairs. 

"Gee!"  srjs  I,  "but  they're  dead  slow, 
ain't  they?  Look  at  the  distance  betwesa  'em." 

And,  honest,  all  Uncle  Andy  was  dom'  was 
lookin'  at  the  book  she'd  been  makin'  a  bluff 
at  readin',  and  fussin'  with  his  collar,  that 
maybe  I'd  got  a  trifle  snugger 'n  he  was  used  to. 

"  See  how  schoolma'amy  she's  behaving,'' 
says  Vee.  "  Why  doesn't  she  give  him  a 
chance?  " 

They  was  a  stiff  pair,  for  sure.  And  both  of 
'em  wise  to  what  was  on  the  card,  too !  Uncle 
Andy  fin'lly  ventures  to  hitch  his  chair  a  little 
closer,  and  Miss  Annie  does  her  part  by  leanin' 


282  TRYING  OUT  TOECHY 

over  and  pointin'  out  something  in  the  book. 
But  in  ten  minutes  that  was  all  the  progress 
they'd  made. 

"  Oh,  shucks!  "  says  Vee.  "  It'll  take  them 
all  summer  at  this  rate." 

"  What  they  need  is  a  little  scientific  speed- 
in'  up,"  says  I.  "  Suppose  we  start  some- 
thing? " 

"  But  how?  "  says  Vee. 

I  whispers  out  my  scheme,  and  after  a  few 
giggles  she  says: 

"  All  right.    But  just  in  fun,  you  know." 

"  Not  at  all,"  says  I.  "I'm  doin'  this  as  a 
solemn  duty  to  Uncle  Andy.  Come  ahead  now 
— reg'lar  schooldays  clinch,  and  keep  up  the 
gay  chatter  durin'  the  march  past." 

That's  the  way  we  did  it,  too — arms  twined, 
heads  close  together,  and  both  of  us  whisperin' 
nonsense  and  gigglin'  over  it,  and  never  pre- 
tendin'  to  notice  there  was  anyone  within  a  mile 
of  us.  I'd  have  given  a  dollar,  too,  to  have  got 
a  squint  at  the  old  pair  in  the  summerhouse  as 
we  marches  on  down  the  path  towards  the 
house.  But  I  couldn't. 

By  that  time  the  giggles  was  the  real  thing, 
and  Vee  was  so  tickled  over  the  scheme  that 
she  has  her  head  bent  clear  over  my  shoulder 
and  I  was  lookin'  into  them  big,  laughin'  gray 
eyes  of  hers  at  close  range,  and  I  was  feelin' 
sort  of  glad  and  tingly  all  over — when  all  of  a 


SPEEDING  UP  UNCLE  ANDY      283 

sudden  I  gets  sort  of  a  chill,  and  we  both  looks 
up,  to  find  Aunty  standin'  glarin'  at  us,  not 
ten  feet  ahead. 

"  Verona!  "  she  snaps  out  like  the  crack  of 
a  whip.  "  What  does  this  mean?  " 

And  for  a  sudden  break  away  that  must  have 
been  near  the  record. 

"  Why,  Aunty,"  begins  Vee,  "  we  were  only 
—only—" 

"  Exhibition  performance,  that's  all,"  I  cuts 
in,  "for  the  benefit  of  Uncle  Andy  and  the 
other  half  of  the  sketch.  Just  givin'  'em  a  line 
on  how  it  ought  to  be  done,  you  know.  Wait! 
I'll  see  if  it  took  effect,"  and  I  dodges  back 
down  the  path  a  ways.  "  Oh,  say!  "  I  sings 
out  cautious,  beckonin'  excited  with  both  hands. 
"  Come  ahead  easy  and  take  a  look!  " 

It  was  a  tough  decision  to  put  up  to  Aunty: 
for  she  had  a  few  urgent  remarks  on  tap  for 
Vee  and  me.  But  she  didn't  want  to  miss  out 
on  any  crucial  moment,  either.  And  after  one 
look  around  she  comes  trottin'  along,  with  Vee 
after  her.  I  hadn't  been  springin'  any  fake 
bulletin.  The  scene  in  the  summerhouse  was 
worth  viewin'.  That  clinch  of  ours  was  catch- 
in',  all  right.  Uncle  Andy  might  have  been 
some  out  of  practice,  and  maybe  Annie  was  new 
to  the  game;  but  they  was  cuddled  up  some 
cozy,  and  they  acted  like  they  wa'n't  in  any 
hurry  to  let  go. 


284  TRYING  OUT  TORCHY 

"  Well,  I  must  say!  "  remarks  Aunty. 
drew  appears  to  have  succeeded." 

"  All  of  that,"  says  I.  "  But  don't  mention 
it.  Vee  and  I  only  did  it  to  oblige,  you  know," 
with  which  I  does  a  quick  exit  towards  the 
front  gate. 

Maybe  that  don't  get  by  either;  for  Aunty's 
a  wise  old  girl.  But,  say,  I  guess  at  that  I'm 
some  solid  with  Uncle  Andy,  who  lives  next 
door. 


CHAPTER  XVH 

A  KICK  IN  BY  TOECHY 

IT'S  just  as  I  was  streakin'  through  the  ar- 
cade, here  one  Saturday  noon  a  few  weeks 
back,  that  I  bumps  into  this  tall,  awkward 
specimen  of  the  frock  coat  who's  standin'  right 
in  the  middle  of  the  passageway  gawpin'  up 
at  the  floor  directory.  As  I  was  in  a  hurry,  we 
met  up  some  solid. 

11  Ah,  say!"  says  I.  "Why  not  do  that 
sleep- walkin'  act  on  the  roof,  where  there's 
more  room?  " 

"  I — I  beg  pardon,  really!  "  he  gasps  out, 
rescuin'  his  silk  lid  from  the  marble  tiles  and 
jammin'  it  on  hind  side  front.  "  I — I  was 
merely — " 

"Chee!"  I  breaks  in.  "Ferdinand,  eh? 
'Nough  said." 

Remember  Ferdy,  do  you, — the  one  that  Miss 
Marjorie  Ellins  fin'lly  picked  out  for  her  very 
ownest  own;  and  how  we  married  'em  off  last 
winter,  with  a  simple  home  weddin'  that  was 
almost  as  quiet  and  unpretentious  as  a  circus 
parade?  Well,  this  is  him,  shell-rimmed  eye- 
gla3ses  and  all.  But  the  long  coat  and  the 

285 


286  TRYING  OUT  TOECHY 

shiny  turret  was  new  additions.  He  used  to 
go  moonin'  about,  you  know,  in  baggy-kneed 
pants,  leather  puttees,  a  Norfolk  jacket,  and  a 
cloth  hat  that  had  lost  all  its  shape. 

"  Well,  well!  "  says  I.  "  All  gussied  up  for 
high  tea,  ain't  you?  Where's  the  walkin'  stick, 
though!  " 

Ferdinand  inspects  each  hand,  and  then 
flushes  up  guilty.  "  Why,  I — I  must  have  mis- 
laid it  again.  Pshaw!  "  says  he.  "  That's  the 
third  this  week,  you  know." 

"  Well,  the  week's  most  over,"  says  I. 
"  You  ought  to  start  in  Monday  with  one 
chained  to  your  wrist;  that  is,  if  you're  bound 
to  lug  one  around." 

"  It's  on  Marjorie's  account,  you  see,'* 
says  Ferdy.  -"  She — er — she  thinks  I  ought 
to." 

"  Oh-ho!  "  says  I,  winkin'.  "  And  I  expect 
she  inspires  the  frock  coat  and  the  glossy  lid? 
Trainin's  well  under  way,  I  see." 

"  Oh,  but  Marjorie's  perfectly  right  about  it, 
you  know,"  says  he.  "A  man  shouldn't  go 
about  looking  tacky.  She's  quite  right." 

' '  You  got  the  idea,  Ferdy, ' '  says  I.  "If  you 
can't  win  out  in  an  argument,  beat  her  to  it. 
But  how  do  you  happen  to  stray  so  far  down 
town?  " 

"  House  hunting,"  says  he. 

"  In  the  Corrugated  Trust  Buildin'?  "  flays  I* 


A  KICK  IN  BY  TORCHY  287 

"  You  see,"  says  Ferdy,  "I'm  looking  up  a 
real  estate  firm  which  has  offices  here." 

"  Call  it  off,  then,"  says  I.  "  Wrong  day, 
Ferdy.  Why,  if  you  found  'em  open  at  all 
you'd  only  get  next  to  some  two-by-four  clerk. 
Saturday  afternoon,  you  know,  all  the  bosses 
are  off  playin'  golf,  or  tryin'  out  their  new 
tourin'  cars.  Better  wait  until  Monday." 

"  Pshaw!  says  Ferdy.  "  And  Marjorie  will 
be  so  anxious  to  know  what  I  found  out !  You 
see,  this  sort  of  thing  is  all  new  to  me. ' ' 

"  I  can  believe  that,"  says  I. 

In  fact,  I  don't  know  of  any  kind  of  real  es- 
tate business  that  wouldn't  be  new  to  Ferdy. 
Course,  I  understand,  when  it  comes  to  lookin' 
over  a  collection  of  jades,  or  discoverin'  prizes 
at  an  old  book  auction,  that  Ferdy  has  some 
standin'  as  a  wise  guy.  But  there's  no  use 
denyin',  even  if  he  is  in  the  fam'ly  now,  that, 
outside  of  a  few  specialties,  Ferdy  is  more  or 
less  of  a  prize  boob.  He  don't  even  have  sense 
enough  to  beat  it  back  to  his  club  when  I  hints 
that  it's  lunchtime. 

"  Why,  is  it?  "  says  he.    "  Really,  now!  " 

"  Uh-huh,"  says  I.  "  But  maybe  you'll  join 
me  in  a  hot  fried  egg  sandwich  and  a  mug  of 
chicory?  " 

"  Why — er — thank  you,"  says  Ferdy.  "  I 
think  I  will." 

What  do  you  know  about  that,  eh?    Me  set- 


288  TRYING  OUT  TOBCHY 

tin'  up  a  fifteen-cent  handout  to  one  of  the  Van 
Eusters,  and  him  costumed  for  Sherry's  or 
Del's!  It  seems,  though,  that  my  little  tip  had 
just  naturally  bugged  Ferdy's  whole  pro- 
gramme, and  he  don't  know  what  to  do  next. 
It  all  comes  out  between  bites,  while  we're 
sittin'  there  in  the  armchairs  at  the  dairy 
lunch. 

Him  and  Marjorie  had  gone  to  housekeeping 
you  know,  real  modest  and  unassumin',  in  one 
of  them  four-story  and  basement  brownstone- 
front  affairs  up  on  the  West  70 's;  with  only 
one  butler,  and  just  a  rented  limousine,  and  a 
few  simple  little  necessities  like  that.  "Wonder- 
ful, ain't  it,  how  fine  you  can  cut  it  when  you 
make  up  your  mind?  And  with  the  cost  of 
tiaras  all  the  time  goin'  up,  and  your  Steel 
preferred  only  payin'  about  18  per  cent.! 

Course,  they  visited  back  and  forth  a  good 
deal  at  the  Ellins  house  on  Fifth-ava  and  with 
Ferdy's  folks  at  their  big  country  ranch,  and 
•Marjorie  stands  it  noble  all  winter  until  the 
weather  begun  to  warm  up,  and  then  all  of  a 
sudden  she  comes  out  with  her  gr^nd  scheme. 
They  must  build  a  country  place.  Right  away, 
too! 

"  Do  you  know,"  says  Ferdy,  finishin'  the 
last  of  the  fried  egg,  "  we  became  frightfully 
interested, — sat  up  nearly  all  night  sketching 
plans,  and  right  after  breakfast  I  hurried  dow* 


A  KICK  IN  BY  TORCHY  289 

to  that  McKee  chap  who  builds  such  stunning 
golf  clubs  and  so  on.  But  what  do  you  sup- 
pose? ' 

"  He  stole  the  plans,"  says  I. 

"  No,"  says  Ferdy,  "  he  just  laughed.  Said 
a  house  like  that  would  cost  a  hundred  thou- 
sand, and  wouldn't  be  fit  to  live  in,  anyway. 
I  suppose  it  was  a  little  spread  out,  the  way 
we  had  planned.  Besides,  he  said  we  couldn't 
build  inside  of  a  year,  and  Marjorie  wants  to 
move  within  a  month,  at  least." 

"  Think  of  that!  "  says  I.  "  They  ought  to 
keep  such  things  in  stock.  What  was  your  next 
move!  >: 

"  Why,  I  was  talking  with  Marjorie 's  father 
about  it,  you  know,"  says  Ferdy,  "  and  he  ad- 
vised us  to  buy  one  ready  built.  '  Pick  up  some 
other  fellow's  mistake,'  says  he.  Shrewd  old 
chap,  Mr.  Ellins." 

"  Old  Hickory's  all  of  that,"  says  I.  "  Why 
don't  you  let  him  find  one  for  you!  ' 

"  But  he  won't,"  says  Ferdy.  "  Wants  me 
to  do  it  myself,  you  see;  and  he  offers  to  pay 
half  the  cost  if  I  can  buy  a  place  without  being 
cheated." 

"  Gee!  "  says  I,  "  but  that's  some  proposi- 
tion! I'd  go  after  that." 

"I'd  like  to,"  says  Ferdy;  "-but  how  am  I 
to  know  I  Still,  I've  been  getting  lists  of  coun- 
try houses,  and  some  of  the  prices  seem  quite 


290  TRYING  OUT  TOECHY 

reasonable.    I  suppose  I'd  better  settle  on  one 
and  buy  it." 

"  Offhand,  just  like  that?  "  says  I.  "  Why, 
you'd  be  stung  sure." 

"  Would  If  "   says  Ferdy,   starin'   sort  of' 
helpless.     "  But  I  must  find  something  some- 
where.    Marjorie's  already  planned  a  house- 
warming  party,  and  she  has  asked  Miss  Vee 
and  a  lot  of — " 

"Eh?"  I  breaks  in.  "Why,  say,  Ferdy, 
that  makes  this  worth  lookin'  into.  Maybe  I 
could  help." 

"  Oh,  I  say,"  says  Ferdy,  beamin'  grateful 
through  his  glasses,  "  that  would  be  bully  of 
you !  You  see,  if  I  could  really  find  a  bargain — 
why,  Mr.  Ellins  would — " 

"  I  get  you,"  says  I,  "  and,  believe  me,  he 
deserves  gettin'  set  back!  Ferdy,  leave  it  to 
me.  You  can't  tell  me  what  you  want  because 
you  don't  know  yourself.  But  I  can  make  a 
guess,  and  if  I  don't  run  somethin'  down  within 
a  week,  I  '11  sick  on  someone  who  can. ' ' 

Maybe  that  was  some  heavy  bluffin'  on  my 
part;  but  what's  the  use  stayin'  outside  when 
you  see  a  chance  to  kick  in?  And  thinks  I, 
"  Now,  if  I  can  only—  But  never  mind  all 
them  sunny  dreams  of  mine.  You  know  what 
gen 'rally  happens  in  a  case  like  that. 

But  I  gets  busy.  I  don't  go  first  off  to  any 
bloomin'  real  estate  shark.  I  starts  with  that 


A  KICK  IN  BY  TOBCHY  291 

hunch  of  Old  Hickory's  about  buyin'  someone 
else's  mistake.  And  what  I  begins  with  is  a 
search  for  parties  that  had  made  mistakes  re- 
cent. Eh?  Well,  where  do  they  make  big  mis- 
takes oftenest  and  quickest?  Answer  to  yes- 
terday's puzzle:  Wall  Street.  So  it's  me  for 
a  review  of  the  financial  news  for  two  or  three 
weeks  back,  takin'  special  notice  of  such  chatty 
items  as  seats  posted  for  transfer,  voluntary 
petitions,  and  receivers  appointed.  After  that, 
of  course,  it's  only  a  matter  of  huntin'  through 
the  telephone  directory  to  find  where  they  live. 

And  you  should  have  seen  me  that  afternoon 
in  the  'phone  booth,  blowin'  my  coin  reckless 
against  long  distance  calls  and  givin'  an  imita- 
tion of  a  big  realty  operator  playin '  himself  for 
a  winner.  It  goes  somethin'  like  this: 

"Hello!  Is  this  Birchwood  Terrace?  Well, 
say,  I  want  to  talk  to  Mr.  Collister.  Yes,  the 
boss.  Ah,  what's  that  to  me  if  he  is  engaged? 
This  is  important.  Put  him  on  the  wire.  Yes, 
yes!  Ah,  Collister?  Say,  what  are  you  holdin' 
Birchwood  at?  Yes,  I  know — haven't  really 
put  it  on  the  market,  and  all  that.  But  you're 
thinkin'  of  unloadin'?  Thought  so.  Now 
what's  your  lowest  figure  for  a  cash  offer? 
Eh?  Ah,  come,  Mr.  Collister,  this  is  no  relief 
fund  you're  up  against!  Yes,  I  expect  it  did 
cost  you  something  like  that;  but  that  kind  of 
property  ain't  like  a  bank,  you  know.  You 


292  TRYING  OUT  TORCHY 

can't  always  take  out  what  you  put  in.  Course, 
if  you  can  swing  it  for  a  couple  of  years  you 
may  find  some  easy  mark  who —  Say,  now, 
wouldn't  twenty  thousand  flat  tempt  you?  No? 
Well,  don't  get  peeved  about  it.  I  might  offer 
twenty-five  if  I  got  real  desp'rate.  There,  you 
see,  we're  gettin'  together.  Come  now,  twenty- 
seven?  Certified  check  on  day  of  sale.  Eh? 
That's  right,  think  it  over.  I'll  call  you  up 
again — say  about  Tuesday  next.  So  long." 

What  did  I  know  about  Birchwood  Terrace? 
No  more'n  you.  I  was  just  takin'  a  chance :  not 
one ;  but  a  dozen.  Honest,  at  the  end  of  an  hour 
I'd  paid  out  four  sixty-five,  got  stung  by  three 
snippy  butlers,  been  roasted  to  a  turn  by  a 
couple  of  chesty  owners,  and  had  talked  myself 
hoarse.  But  I'd  got  track  of  six  or  seven 
joints,  located  all  the  way  from  Ardsley-on- 
the-Hud.  to  Coscob,  Connecticut,  and  there  was 
no  tellin'  but  some  of  'em  might  do.  That  was 
up  to  Ferdy. 

For  the  next  few  days,  too,  I  has  him  keep 
the  limousine  gears  hot,  joggin'  around  lookin' 
'em  over,  only  givin'  him  one  at  a  time,  so  he 
don't  get  his  ideas  mixed,  and  makin'  him  re- 
port definite  after  every  trip.  I'd  call  him  up 
in  the  mornin',  for  instance,  and  say: 

' '  Here,  Ferdy,  take  this  down :  Oak  Lawns, 
Scarsdale;  gentleman's  country  place;  ten 
acres;  genuine  old  Colonial  house;  eighteen 


A  KICK  IN  BY  TORCHY  293 

rooms;  three  baths;  fine  duck  pond;  and 
a  billiard  room  on  the  third  floor.  Take 
a  squint  and  let  me  hear  from  you  before 
noon." 

Then  maybe  in  half  an  hour  I'd  get  a  mes- 
sage something  like  this :  '  *  Yes,  that  may  be  a 
nice  place;  but  Marjorie  says  she  doesn't  know 
anyone  in  Scarsdale,  and  she  objects  to  ducks, 
and  she  thinks  the  billiard  room  ought  to  be  on 
the  first  floor,  and  she  doesn't  want  an  old 
house,  anyway.  She  prefers  a  new  one,  you 
know. ' ' 

"  Correct,"  says  I.  "  Lemme  sift  out  a  few 
then.  Nothing  old,  no  duck  ponds—  Say,  Mar- 
jorie got  any  friends  in  White  Plains?  Off  it 
goes  then.  How  about  up  along  the  Sound? 
Oh,  she  has,  eh?  That's  good.  Well,  here's 
Crestholm;  Mr.  Burton  Speedwell,  owner. 
That  has—" 

"  Speedwell?  "  breaks  in  Ferdy.  "  Why, 
that's  right  next  to  Tommy  Hunter's  place! 
We've  been  through  that,  and  it's  perfectly 
corking!  Why,  it's  one  of  those  white  cement 
affairs,  with  a  cute  green-tiled  roof,  and 
splendid  big  porches,  and  a  cunning  for- 
mal garden,  and  a  perfectly  gorgeous  view 
from — " 

"  Say,"  I  cuts  in,  "  never  mind  the  raptures, 
it  do,  that's  the  main  question?  " 
Oh,  it  would  be  lovely!  "  says  Ferdy. 


294  TRYING  OUT  TOECHY 

"  Well,  then,"  I  goes  on,  "  Speedwell's  ask- 
in'  price  is  thirty  thousand.  How  about  it?  " 

"  Why,  I  guess  that's  about  right,"  says 
Ferdy. 

"  Gwan!  "  says  I.  "  Why,  his  firm  got 
nipped  in  that  cotton  flurry  last  week,  and  he's 
got  to  turn  everything  into  cash,  down  to  his 
socks.  He'd  be  glad  to  get  twenty,  maybe 
eighteen.  Do  I  get  your  0.  K.  on  an  offer  of 
twenty?  " 

I  did.  And  I  was  about  to  call  up  Speedwell, 
when  I  has  a  rush  of  thought  to  the  head.  It 
was  time  I  did.  "  Huh!  "  thinks  I.  "  And 
where  does  little  Percival  get  a  look-in?  Nay, 
nay!  "  So  I  rings  up  a  firm  of  swell  house 
brokers,  makes  a  deal  to  deliver  a  place  for 
sale  and  a  customer  for  the  same,  and  has  'em 
put  it  in  writin'  that  half  the  commission  comes 
to  me.  They  was  glad  to  do  it,  too. 

Say,  what  do  you  know?  Inside  of  four  days 
the  papers  are  all  signed,  and  the  next  mornin's 
mail  brings  me  in  a  three-figured  check  that's 
the  biggest  slice  of  easy  money  ever  chucked 
my  way.  Some  class,  eh?  Why,  for  two  or 
three  days  there  I  could  have  patted  Morgan 
on  the  back! 

Then  there  was  Ferdy  still  to  hear  from. 
Well,  I  listened  and  listened.  Nothing  doing. 
Another  week  slips  by.  No  grateful  response 
from  Ferdy.  I  get  it  from  Mr.  Eobert  that  he 


A  KICK  IN  BY  TOBCHY  295 

and  Marjorie  are  mighty  busy  preparin'  to 
move  out  to  their  new  country  place.  Next  I 
hear  they're  there.  Well,  Ferdy's  an  absent- 
minded  dope,  after  all,  and  maybe  he  expects 
to  slip  it  to  me  when  he  asks  me  out  to  that 
house-warmin'  stunt. 

So  maybe  you  can  guess  how  sore  I  am,  here 
the  other  day,  when  I  hears  Mr.  Robert  tele- 
phonin'  his  man  to  take  the  four-thirty-six  out 
and  have  his  things  ready  at  Crestholm  in  time 
for  dinner.  It  was  on,  then !  And  I  ain't  even, 
so  much  as  asked  to  come  out  and  help  serve 
the  icecream,  or  string  up  paper  lanterns.  Vee 
was  goin'  to  be  there  too,  and —  Oh,  well,  when 
you  get  to  bein'  sorry  for  yourself  you  can 
waste  a  lot  of  sympathy,  can't  you?  I  grins 
and  takes  it  out  on  Piddie.  Course,  come  to 
think  of  it  serious,  I  wa'n't  exactly  in  the  house- 
party  class;  so  what  could  I  expect?  But  as 
the  day  went  on  the  grin  came  harder  and 
harder. 

' '  Oh,  by  the  way, ' '  says  Mr.  Robert,  stoppin' 
at  the  gate  on  his  way  back  from  luncheon,  "  I 
met  Mclvers,  the  real  estate  broker  down  in  the 
arcade  just  now.  He  seems  to  think  we  have 
rather  a  bright  young  man  somewhere  in  our 
office." 

"  Another  hidden  mystery,  eh?  "  says  I. 

"  Not  so  much  of  a  one,"  says  he.  "  The 
description  seemed  to  fit  you.  But  you  haven't 


296  TRYING  OUT  TORCHY 

been  speculating  in  country  house  property, 
have  you,  Torchy?  " 

"  There  wa'n't  any  spec  to  it,"  says  I.  "It 
was  a  cinch.  I  just  bunched  a  place  and  buyer 
for  'em,  that's  all." 

"  I  see,"  says  Mr.  Robert.  "  You  just — • 
By  Jove,  young  man!  it  wasn't  the  one  Ferdy 
got  at  such  a  bargain,  was  it?  " 

"  Uh-huh,"  says  I. 

"  Whe-e-ew!  "  whistles  Mr.  Robert.  "  So 
that's  how  Ferdy  came  to  do  it!  And  did  you 
happen  to  know  the  arrangement  he  had  with 
the  Governor  about  that?  " 

"  Sure,"  says  I.  "  Ferdy  don't  keep  much 
back,  you  know." 

' '  But  see  here !  ' '  goes  on  Mr.  Robert.  ' '  You 
saved  Ferdy  something  like  eight  thousand  on 
that  deal.  Has  he — er — remembered  you  in 
any  way?  ' 

"  Ferdy  ain't  long  on  mem'ry,"  says  I.  "I 
was  sort  of  lookin'  to  be  rung  in  on  some  of 
these  house-party  doin's.  Miss  Vee,  you  know, 
is  go  in'  to  be  there,  and — 

"  And  he  has  forgotten  you?  "  says  Mr.  Rob- 
ert. "  Ferdy 's  an  ass!  ' 

"  He  means  well,  I  expect,"  says  I. 

"  Humph!  "  says  he.  "  He'll  do  more  than 
that.  Hand  me  that  telephone  book !  ' 

And,  say,  you  know  Mr.  Robert.  He  don't 
half  do  things.  Inside  of  ten  minutes  I  has 


A  KICK  IN  BY  TOECHY  297 

profuse  apologies  and  a  perfectly  good  invite 
from  Ferdy,  and  then  Mr.  Robert  takes  me  in 
tow  and  we  beats  it  down  Broadway  to  the 
swellest  gents'  clothing  store  in  town. 

' '  Ferdy  has  an  account  here, ' '  says  Mr.  Rob- 
ert; "  so  you  can  go  the  limit.  We'll  start  in 
by  getting  a  full  evening  outfit." 

Well,  that 's  what  happened.  From  clawham- 
mer and  white  vest  we  goes  right  down  the  line, 
includin'  a  silk-faced  Tuxedo,  half  a  dozen  dress 
shirts,  and  a  bundle  of  black  silk  socks  at  one- 
fifty  a  throw  per  each.  He  even  had  the  nerve 
to  charge  up  an  English  sole  leather  suitcase 
that  we  stowed  the  loot  in.  Honest,  I  almost  felt 
like  a  taxi  bandit  as  we  comes  out.  Wanted  me 
to  go  right  along  up  with  him  and  butt  in  at 
dinner,  Mr.  Robert  did;  but  I  drew  the  line  at 
that. 

"  Why,  there's  to  be  dancing,  I  believe," 
says  he. 

"  Maybe  I'll  show  up  on  the  side  lines  for 
that,"  says  I. 

And  it's  lucky;  for,  believe  me,  there  was 
some  struggle  before  I  got  harnessed  into  that 
new  open-faced  uniform  for  the  first  time.  At 
that,  though,  it  wa'n't  much  after  nine  o'clock 
when  I  lands  out  at  Crestholm;  and  as  I  walks 
in  there's  Marjorie  in  the  hall,  givin'  the  glad 
hand  to  late  comers. 

11  Oh,  you  dear!  "  says  she,  makin'  a  rush 


298  TRYING  OUT  TORCHY 

and  givin'  me  the  shoulder  tackle.  "  I've  just 
heard  it  was  you  who  found  this  perfectly 
splendid  place  for  us." 

' '  Ouch !  ' '  says  I.  "  Do  I  have  to  get  mussed 
just  for  that?  " 

"  I  told  Ferdy  I  was  going  to,"  says  she. 
11  Now  Collins  will  show  you  your  room,  and 
please  come  right  down.  There's  someone  here 
you'll  be  wanting  to  see.  She  doesn't  know, 
either.  Quick,  and  you  may  have  a  glimpse  of 
her  now!  There!  '  I  got  the  glimpse,  all 
right ;  and  it  included  a  long-legged  guy  with  a 
hemp  pompadour. 

"  Who's  the  lengthy  one  with  her?  " 
says  I. 

11  Oh,  that's  Sappy  Westlake,  of  course," 
says  Marjorie.  "  But  don't  mind  him." 

' '  Thanks, ' '  says  I.    "  I  '11  try  not  to. ' ' 

It  was  easy  enough  to  say;  but  as  I  stops  on 
the  stair  landin'  for  another  look  back  at  'em, 
down  sails  a  stiff-necked  old  female  party,  and 
the  next  thing  I  know  she's  paused  to  give  me 
the  gimlet  eye.  It's  Aunty! 

11  Ah!  "  says  she,  with  that  sniff  of  hers. 
"  Mr.  Robert's  young  protege!  '  At  that  she 
squints  down  to  where  Vee  and  Sappy  Westlake 
was  just  clinchin'  for  a  waltz,  and  then  she 
turn  to  give  me  one  of  them  pickled-lime  smiles 
of  hers.  Get  the  idea,  don't  you?  Sappy 's  the 
one  Vee's  aunt  has  put  the  inspected  stamp  on. 


A  KICK  IN  BY  TOBCHY  299 

and  it  sure  does  look  like  he  was  havin'  things 
all  his  own  way. 

Well,  I  didn't  have  a  word  to  say.  Marjorie 
was  busy  when  I  comes  down  again,  and  as 
there  wa'n't  any  other  reception  committee  on 
duty,  I  kind  of  dodges  around  the  edge  of  the 
crowd,  until  I  fin'lly  finds  myself  out  on  a  side 
veranda  where  I  has  plenty  of  elbow  room  and 
can  get  a  good  view  of  the  orchestra  through 
the  open  window.  Anyway,  it  was  a  fine  night 
to  be  on  the  outside  lookin'  in, — nice  and  warm, 
with  a  full  moon,  and  all  that, — so  I  balances 
myself  on  the  railin'  and  does  my  best  to 
enjoy  it.  All  I  really  needed  for  the  hermit 
act  was  a  solitaire  outfit,  or  a  cut-up  picture 
puzzle. 

I  hadn  't  been  there  long  though,  before  I  sees 
the  partic'lar  couple  I'm  most  int 'rested  in 
come  strollin'  out  through  the  double  doors  to- 
wards me.  And,  say,  if  there's  anything  that 
gives  me  more  courage  than  I  got  any  right  to 
have,  it's  Vee  in  a  party  dress.  Course,  I  don't 
expect  it's  the  same  one  she  wore  the  first  time 
I  ever  saw  her;  but  it's  all  the  same  to  me. 
Maybe  there's  less  sleeves  to  this  one,  or  more 
lace  on  it ;  but  it  matches  up  well  with  that  sea- 
shell-tint  flush  on  her  cheeks.  She  has  a  wide 
band  around  her  straw-colored  hair  too,  and  she 
looks—  Well,  she's  Vee,  that's  all,  and  that's 
enough!  I  steps  out  smilin'  and  cheerful. 


300  TRYING  OUT  TOBCIIY 

There's  no  doubt  about  it  bein'  a  surprise, 
either. 

"  Why — why,  Torchy!  "  she  squeals,  drop- 
pin'  Sappy 's  arm  and  meetin'  me  halfway. 

"  I  bob  up  now  and  then,  don't  I?  "  says  I. 
"  But  just  a  minute — Westlake,  isn't  it?  " 

He  admits  it  is,  gawpin'  curious  at  me. 
"  That's  all  right,  then,"  says  I.  "  And, 
Westy,  you'll  find  Ferdinand  out  front  some- 
where. You  can  catch  him  if  you  hurry." 

"  But  why — er — what —  '  he  begins. 

"  Oh,  he'll  tell  you  all  about  that,"  says  I. 
"  You  ought  to  get  a  move  on,  though.  That's 
right.  I'll  take  care  of  the  young  lady,  and  if 
you  don't  find  us  right  here  when  you  come 
back — why,  we'll  be  somewhere  else." 

"  Why — er — thanks  awfully,"  says  Sappy, 
startin'  off  dazed. 

11  Noble  lookin'  youth,"  says  I.  "  Must  be 
awfully  int 'resting,  too.  Eh?  Say,  what's  the 
matter  with  me,  Vee  ?  Have  I  got  something  on 
wrong,  or  left  something  off,  or — 

"  No,  no!  "  says  Vee.  "  And  I  didn't  mean 
to  stare  at  you  that  way;  only — only— 

"  Oh,  if  that's  all,"  says  I,  "  keep  it  up.  As 
long  as  I  can  stare  back,  I  guess  I  win." 

'  *  Pooh !  ' '  says  she.  '  *  You  haven 't  forgot- 
ten how  to  jolly,  have  you?  But  you  do  look 
nice,  you  know." 

"  Help!  "  says  I.    "I'm  being  kidded!    But 


A  KICK  IN  BY  TORCHY  301 

I  hope  it's  true,  for  the  sake  of  the  comp'ny 
I'm  in.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  Vee,  you  don't 
look  so  bad  to  me,  specially  in  that  classy  out- 
fit. Though  maybe  I  shouldn't  pass  any  re- 
marks on  the  dress.  Does  Sappy,  now?  ' 

11  He  never  fails,"  says  she.  "  '  Kegular  rip- 
pin'!  '  is  his  stock  expression." 

"  Then  I'm  in  right  for  once,"  says  I,  "  even 
if  it  is  only  for  a  minute.  I  hope  Westy  is  a 
patient  searcher." 

' '  Did  Ferdy  really  send  for  him  I  ' '  says  she. 

"  I  didn't  say  so,"  says  I.  "I  merely  sug- 
gests to  Westy  where  he'  could  find  him  if  he 
tried." 

"  Torchy !  "  says  Vee,  workin'  up  a  weak  line 
of  indignation  to  cover  a  giggle.  ' '  You  had  nQ 
right.  He — he  isn't  so  stupid  as  he  looks." 

11  I  should  hope  not,"  says  I.  "  Maybe  I'd 
better  go  lead  him  back?  " 

11  Oh,  well,  since  he's  gone,"  says  Vee, 
"  never  mind." 

11  Then  suppose  we  camp  over  here  on  the 
rail  and  wait,"  says  I,  "  and  you  can  tell  me 
all  about  Sappy." 

11  Keally,  now!  "  says  Vee,  liftin'  her  eye- 
brows sarcastic. 

"  I  know  you're  dyin'  to  tell  someone,"  says 
I.  "  But  honest,  Vee,  is  it  all  settled?  " 

11  Oh!  "  says  she.    "  Does  it  matter?  " 

"  A  heap,"  says  I.    "  Course,  Vee,  I  don't 


302  TRYING  OUT  TORCHY 

have  any  rating  in  this,  and  I  expect  I  ought 
to—" 

"  S-s-sh!  "  says  she.  "  I  think  that  Aunty's 
coming.  Yes,  it  is.  You  might  ask  her,  you 
know. ' ' 

"  Good-night!  "  says  I,  swingin'  my  legs  over 
the  veranda  rail  and  droppin'  easy  onto  the 
lawn.  I'm  in  the  shadow  of  the  pillar  there; 
so  when  Aunty  arrives  all  she  discovers  is  Vee 
sittin'  by  her  lonesome. 

"  Not  deserted,  my  dear?  "  says  she. 

11  Not  quite,"  says  Vee.  "  Waiting  for  Mr. 
Westlake  to  come  back." 

"  Ah!  '  says  Aunty,  breathin'  deep  and 
satisfied.  And  as  she  disappears  inside  I  comes 
up  smilin'  on  the  other  side  of  the  rail. 

"  Well?  "  says  I.    ''As  we  was  saying?  " 

"  You  can  see  for  yourself,  can't  you?  "  says 
Vee,  spreadin'  out  the  fingers  of  her  left  hand. 
And,  say,  there's  nothing  like  a  ring  in  evi- 
dence. 

"  Lemme  look  closer,"  says  I,  gatherin'  it 
in  gentle.  "  One — two — three — four —  Why, 
that's  so,  Vee!  Then— then  it  isn't  settled?  " 

"  Silly!  "  says  she.  "  Of  course  not — not 
yet,  anyway." 

"  Ahem!  "  says  I.  "  But  there's  an  elegant 
site  for  a  nice  solitaire  spark  right  here." 

"  Pooh!  "  says  Vee.  "  I  think  diamonds 
are  vulgar." 


A  KICK  IN  BY  TORCHY  303 

"  Me  too,"  says  I.  "  See,  all  I  wear  is  this 
little  birthstone  ring  Mr.  Robert  gave  me  last 
Christmas.  Say,  I  wonder  if  it  would —  Well, 
blamed  if  it  don't!  Look  at  that!  " 

Vee  snatches  her  hand  away  and  looks.  Then 
she  sort  of  hesitates  and  smiles  down  at  me 
and — and —  Well,  I  sort  of  smiles  back  at  her 
too,  I  guess;  and  I  don't  know  how  long  it  was 
I'd  been  gazin'  into  them  big  gray  eyes  of  hers, 
gettin'  nearer  and  nearer,  until  I  has  sense 
enough  to  just  naturally  reach  up  and —  Well, 
we  was  makin'  a  clean,  quick  breakaway  when 
the  orchestra  inside  starts  up  one  of  them 
jiggly,  lively  new  dance  tunes,  and  across  the 
veranda  to  our  corner  comes  Sappy  Westlake, 
with  his  brow  furrowed  up  puzzled. 

"  Oh,  I  say,  you!  "  says  he.  "  Ferdy  doesn't 
want  me  for  anything." 

"  No  more  do  we,  Westy,"  says  I;  and  then, 
whisperin'  to  Vee,  "  Shall  we  try  this  one? 
How  about  springin'  the  turkey  trot?  Sure,  I 
can.  I  'd  tackle  anything  with  you  for  a  part- 
ner, I  guess.  Only  I  have  to  count  for  a  start. 
One — two—  Now  we're  off!  "  and  as  we 
swings  in  through  the  doorway  onto  the  waxed 
hardwood  floor  of  the  big  drawin'  room,  I  gets 
a  glimpse  of  Sappy  Westlake  standin'  there 
with  his  mouth  still  open. 

"  Look,  Vee!  '  says  I.  "  I  believe  your 
friend  Westy 's  tryin'  to  swallow  the  moon." 


CHAPTEE  XVIII 

PICKING  UP  A  FEIEND 

WHEW!  Say,  believe  me,  I've  had  it  handed 
to  me  seven  ways  for  soup  greens,  and  all  on 
such  short  notice  and  with  so  many  kinks  in 
the  programme  that  I  don't  know  whether  I'm 
a  bush-leaguer,  or  on  the  bench  with  McGraw! 

It  all  starts  so  salucious,  too.  Eh!  Why, 
salucious  comes  from  the  Greek,  by  way  of 
Ellis  Island,  and  it  means — why,  just  salucious ; 
you  know,  like  someone  was  feedin'  you  cafe 
par  fait,  and  ticklin'  you  with  a  willow  plume, 
and  the  band  was  playin'. 

Anyway,  I'd  picked  a  prize  out  of  the  morn- 
in'  mail,  just  a  dinky  little  envelope  with  one 
of  Vee's  cards  in  it;  but  in  one  corner  is 
penciled  faint  and  hasty  the  mystic  summons, 
"  Sunday,  3  P.M."  Do  I  have  to  hunt  up  a 
Sixth-ave.  seeress  to  discover  the  hidden  mean- 
in'?  Not  so,  Percival!  I'm  a  Willie  Wise,  and 
from  then  on  it's  a  case  of  watchin'  the  rosy 
dawn  all  day  with  me,  and  passin'  out  kind 
words  to  Piddie,  and  wonderin'  how  anybody 
can  lug  around  a  grouch  such  lovely  weather. 
Say,  for  thirty-six  hours  or  so  there  I  sports  a 

304 


PICKING  UP  A  FKIEND  305 

disposition  that  would  have  had  a  front-row 
cherub  lookin'  like  little  Harry  havin'  the 
mumps  on  circus  day. 

And  at  two-fifty-nine  Sunday  afternoon  what 
do  you  guess?  Me  in  my  new  Norfolk  suit  and 
best  straw  lid,  appearin'  jaunty  at  the  garden 
gate.  Course,  I  might  have  taken  a  chance  on 
the  front  door;  but  as  long  as  nothing  of  the 
kind  was  mentioned  in  the  specifications,  and  as 
i  aadn  't  heard  a  word  from  Vee  since  that  little 
affair  at  Marjorie's  house  warmin',  where  we'd 
left  Sappy  Westlake  on  the  porch  with  his 
mouth  open,  why — well,  I've  met  Aunty  face  to 
face  a  few  times  before,  you  know,  and  I  could 
sort  of  forecast  that  if  there  was  any  welcome 
sign  on  the  doormat  it  wa'n't  meant  special 
for  me. 

Maybe  you  remember,  too,  how  Uncle  Andy's 
house  is  right  next  door,  and  that  I  stood  aces 
high  with  him.  So  it's  into  Uncle  Andy's  I 
strolls  first,  down  the  side  path,  and  out  to  the 
back  where  there's  a  break  in  the  hedge.  Then 
sort  of  soft  I  gives  the  "  Oh,  you!  "  signal. 
There's  nothing  doing  in  the  response  line, 
though.  But  that's  Vee's  way.  I  slips  through 
and  scouts  around  until  I  locates  the  spot  where 
I'd  found  her  once  before,  and  whistles  again. 
More  silence. 

"That's  right!"  I  calls  out.  "Kid  me 
along.  I'm  a  good  waiter." 


306  TRYING  OUT  TORCHY 

I  was  pawin'  around  the  shrubb'ry,  rubberin' 
here  and  there  in  likely  spots,  when  all  of  a 
sudden  I  fetches  up  in  front  of  the  summer- 
Jiouse  and  finds  myself  bein'  looked  over  curi- 
ous through  a  pair  of  gold  lorgnette  glasses 
by  about  the  classiest  specimen  of  gray-haired 
lady  I'd  ever  got  close  to.     No  antique,  you 
know;   but   one  of  these  middle-aged  queens 
that's  lost  her  raven  tresses  but  has  kept  a 
strangle  hold  on  her  daylight  complexion  and 
her  graduation  day  figure. 

"  Well,  young  man?  "  says  she,  not  peevish 
or  haughty,  understand,  but  sort  of  amused  and 
sociable.  "  You  seem  to  be  looking  for  some- 
one. ' ' 

"  Uh-huh,"  says  I,  grinnin'  sheepish. 

"  Verona,  isn't  it?  "  she  goes  on. 

"  If  you  think  that's  a  close  guess,"  says  I, 
"  why,  well—" 

II  But  it  isn't  a  guess,"   says  she.     "  I'm 
quite  certain.    And  you  are  Torchy;  I  can  tell 
that  by  your — er — " 

' '  Go  on, "  says  I, ' '  pink  thatch  will  do  if  you 
can't  think  of  anything  else.  No  use  my  tryin' 
to  travel  incog  with  that  growin'  on  me,  is 
there?  But  what  then?  If  I'm  in  wrong,  I 
know  the  way  out,"  and  I  starts  to  back  off. 

"  Oh,  that  isn't  brave  at  all,"  says  she. 
"  And  I'm  sure  you're  not  afraid  of  me.  Come, 
I'll  confess.  I  sent  the  card  myself." 


PICKING  UP  A  FRIEND  307 

"  Gee!  "  says  I.     "A  bee  bite!  " 

"  I  beg  pardon?  "  says  she,  liftnr  her  eye- 
brows puzzled. 

"  Caught  nappin'  on  second,  that's  all,'*  says 
I.  "  Well,  I'm  tagged.  What  happens  to  me 
now?  " 

11  You'll  forgive  me,  I'm  sure,"  says  she; 
"  but  I  thought  it  best  to  have  a  little  talk  with 
you.  Won't  you  come  in  here  and  sit  down?  " 

Say,  she  was  a  chatty  converser,  all  right. 
It  just  bubbled  out,  all  mixed  up  with  smiles 
and  shoulder  shrugs,  and  willowy  arm  mo- 
tions, not  to  mention  a  lot  of  shifty  business 
with  the  eyes.  Just  seemed  to  come  natural  to 
her,  this  snake  charmer  act,  and  who  was  I  to 
give  her  the  frosty  face?  I  walks  in,  but  not 
without  lettin'  her  know  I  hadn't  shut  both 
eyes. 

"  Most  time  for  Aunty  to  show  up  with  her 
tomahawk,  eh?  "  says  I. 

She  lets  go  of  a  few  silvery  gurgles  at  that. 
"  You  are  rather  keen,  aren't  you?  "  says  she. 

"  Now  and  then  I  have  my  doubts  about 
that,"  says  I;  "  but  I  ain't  hung  out  the  To 
Let  sign  just  yet,"  and  I  taps  my  forehead. 

"  My  word!  "  says  she.  "  But  I  hasten  to 
assure  you  that  Verona's  Aunt  Sally  is  not  in 
ambush.  You  see,  when  I  thought  of  that  plan 
of  sending  one  of  Vee's  cards  to  you,  I  also  de- 
cided to  pack  them  both  off  for  the  afternoon. 


308  TRYING  OUT  TOECHY 

And  I've  done  it.  Now  you're  wondering 
why?  " 

"  Something  like  that,"  says  I. 

11  Well,  then,"  says  she,  settlin'  herself  back 
conf  table  on  one  of  the  seats  and  balancin'  the 
lorgnette  between  the  tips  of  two  fingers,  <{  it 
was  because  I  found  Sally  had  been  making 
such  a  mess  of  things.  She  is  an  excellent 
woman  in  many  ways,  you  know;  but — er — " 

"  I  get  you,"  says  I.  "  That's  about  how 
I'd  sized  her  up,  too;  sort  of  fish-eyed  and 
frosty." 

"  Oh,  dear  no!  "  protests  the  lady.  "  That 
is,  if  I  understand  at  all  your  amazing  idioms. 
A  certain  lack  of  tact,  let  us  call  it,  and  a  per- 
fect genius  for  mismanaging  affairs  in  which 
young  people  are  concerned.  Of  course,  Verona 
has  a  temper  of  her  own,  too." 

"  Say,"  I  breaks  in,  "  couldn't  we  leave  Miss 
Vee  out  of  this?  " 

"Ah,  a  knight  to  the  defense!  Bravo!'1 
says  she,  smilin'  sort  of  quizzin'.  "  But  we 
simply  can't  leave  Verona  out.  It's  all  about 
her  and  Sally,  you  know.  I  found  them  at 
swords'  points — oh,  actually  glaring  at  each 
other!  There 'd  been  a  rumpus.  It  was  all 
about  a  ring  Vee  was  wearin'.  Now!  ': 

"  Huh!  "  says  I,  turnin'  red  behind  the  ears. 

"Then  it  was  yours!"  says  she,  clappin* 
her  hands.  "  Vee  wouldn't  say  where  it  came 


PICKING  UP  A  FRIEND  309 

from,  you  see.  Sally  couldn't  get  a  word  out 
of  her.  She  insisted  on  knowing,  demanded, 
stormed,  all  that  sort  of  folly.  And  of  course 
Verona  wouldn't  tell  then.  I'm  sure  I  wouldn't, 
either.  But  with  you  it  is  different.  Now,  I'm 
asking  you  frankly;  does  it  mean  anything  at 
all,  that  ring?  " 

And  me,  I'm  sittin'  there  with  my  toes  turned 
in,  studyin'  a  crack  in  the  floor  and  wonderin' 
if  my  back  collar  button  will  melt  or  just  ex- 
plode. 

"  But  there !  "  she  goes  on,  changin'  her  tone 
and  startin'  off  on  another  tack.  "  Perhaps 
you  ought  to  know  first  just  why  I  am  inter- 
ested. I'm  Mrs.  Basil  Burke. " 

"  Gee!  "  says  I,  gawpin'  at  her.  "  The  Mrs. 
Burke." 

"  Oh,  yes,"  says  she,  lettin'  out  more  ripples, 
"  the  awful  Mrs.  Burke!  You've  been  reading 
the  newspapers,  young  man  I  ' ' 

Just  as  though  anybody  could  have  skipped 
all  them  big  headlines  for  so  long.  Why,  as  far 
back  as  when  I  was  on  the  Sunday  edition  we 
used  to  run  a  half-page  story  about  her  every 
few  months,  reviewin'  all  the  details  of  how  the 
stunnin'  Kentucky  girl — "  Queen  of  Blue  Grass 
Beauties  "  was  always  worked  in  somewhere — 
had  left  her  noble  young  lover  waitin'  at  the 
church  and  eloped  with  a  seventy-year-old  Wall 
Street  plute ;  how  the  n.  y.  1.  had  buckled  on  his 


310  TRYING  OUT  TORCHY 

deadly  derringers  and  chased  'em  to  Europe 
and  all  over  the  map,  violatin'  the  Interstate 
Commerce  Law  and  the  Concert  of  Nations,  un- 
til he  fin'lly  gets  run  in  by  a  French  cop  that 
he'd  upset  in  his  hurry  to  catch  a  train. 

But  you've  read  all  that.  The  young  lover 
had  a  good  press  agent  on  the  job,  and  when  he 
gets  back  home  he  promptly  marries  one  of  the 
disappointed  bridesmaids  and  gets  himself 
elected  to  the  Legislature;  while  the  old  plute 
shuffles  off  sudden  at  Monte  Carlo,  and  the 
dashin'  young  widow  comes  back  to  open  up  the 
Fifth-ave.  house,  fight  the  will  contest,  and 
break  into  society. 

Well,  after  that,  you  remember,  she  stars  in 
that  bathin'  suit  dinner  dance;  proceeds  to 
make  a  monkey  out  of  that  Duke  of  Spaghetti, 
who  almost  lost  his  royal  job  on  her  account; 
and  as  a  finish  she's  mixed  up  in  this  double 
divorce  suit  of  the  Willie  Van  Cleek's,  which 
probably  got  the  Newport  alimony  bunch  more 
free  advertisin'  than  any  other  event  for  years. 

No  wonder  she  decided  to  stay  abroad  for 
a  while  then!  But  it  seems  her  knack  of  at- 
tractin'  the  spotlight  hadn't  been  left  behind; 
and,  while  I  ain't  letter  perfect  on  all  her  giddy 
doin's  over  there,  I  got  a  gen'ral  idea  that  she 
had  at  least  one  other  hubby  in  the  discards  be- 
fore she  blooms  out  as  Mrs.  Basil  Burke.  Any- 
way, her  pickin'  the  pet  officer  of  the  Royal 


PICKING  UP  A  FRIEND  311 

Lancers,  and  bein'  presented  at  court  when 
four  double-chinned  Duchesses  said  she  should- 
n't— well,  that  wa'n't  missin'  any  tricks  ex- 
actly, was  it?  And  here  was  this  matrimony 
-expert  puttin'  me  through  the  third  degree 
about  why  Vee  was  wearin'  my  birthday  ring! 

"  Excuse  me,"  says  I,  takin'  my  eyes  off  my 
toes,  "  but  just  where  do  you  fit  in?  " 

11  Where  do  I —  Oh,  I  see,"  says  she. 
**  Why,  Everett  Westlake  happens  to  be  my 
nephew. ' ' 

"  Sappy?  "  says  I. 

"  Now,  now!  "  says  Mrs.  Burke,  shakin'  a 
finger  at  me.  "  You  mustn't  speak  of  him  in 
that  way,  you  know.  It's  not  respectful.  Per- 
haps you  do  not  know  precisely  who  Everett 
is?  " 

"  I  had  a  hunch,"  says  I,  "  that  he  was  the 
one  Aunty  had  passed  on  as  all  right  for  Miss 
Vee." 

"  Yes,  yes,  of  course,"  says  Mrs.  Burke; 
tl  but,  aside  from  that  distinction,  Everett  is  a 
nice,  well  bred  young  fellow,  with  many  good 
qualities  and  only  a  few  bad  habits.  True,  he 
may  not  be  very  brilliant;  but  he  is  a  gentle- 
man, the  Westlake  fortune  is  a  big  one,  and  he 
is  an  only  son.  Also  his  great-great-grand- 
father was  a  patroon." 

"  Eh?  "  says  I. 

"  We  will  not  stop  to  go  into  that,"  says  she, 


312  TRYING  OUT  TOECHY 

smilin'  condescendin';  "  but  I  may  say  that, 
in  our  crudely  organized  society,  the  descend- 
ants of  those  old  Dutch  patroons  are  our  only 
real  aristocrats.  Verona,  too,  can  claim  a  simi- 
lar ancestry." 

"  You  mean  they're  both  upper  crusters, 
eh?  "  says  I. 

Mrs.  Burke  nods.  "  One  of  Verona's  an- 
cestors," says  she,  "  was  Governor  of  Man- 
hattan." 

"  Must  have  been  a  Tammany  boss,  then," 
says  I.  "I  never  heard  about  that." 

"  But  you  knew  that  she  was  an  heiress,  I 
suppose?  "  says  she. 

"  I  ain't  looked  her  up  in  Dun's  yet,"  says  I. 
"  Got  it  in  big  bundles,  has  she?  ' 

"  Not  in  her  own  right,  as  yet,"  goes  on  Mrs. 
Burke;  "  but  there's  a  great  deal  of  money  in 
the  family,  and,  while  her  poor  father  squan- 
dered most  of  his  portion,  Verona,  thanks  to 
her  Aunt  Sally,  has  never  felt  it.  She  has  had 
every  advantage,  every  luxury,  that  was  good 
for  her, — foreign  travel,  her  own  maid,  the  best 
of  everything,  from  clothes  to  society.  She  has 
been  accustomed  to  such  things  all  her  life. 
Do  you  follow  me?  ' 

"  Oh,  sure,  I'm  trailin'  along,"  says  I. 
"  You're  puttin'  me  wise  to  the  fact  that  Vee 
belongs  to  the  carriage-trade-charge-account, 
*  Home,  Henri  '  class.  But  I  sort  of  suspicioned 


PICKING  UP  A  FRIEND  313 

she  wa'n't  brought  up  over  any  Eight-aye, 
delicatessen  store." 

"Ah!"  says  she.  "And  now,  Master 
Torchy,  what  about  yourself!  " 

"  Me?  "  says  I.  "  Well,  how  many  great- 
grandfathers back  shall  I  start  at?  " 

"  Suppose  we  begin  at  the  other  end  of  the 
line?  "  says  she.  "  Now  just  who  and  what 
are  you?  " 

"  Why,  I'm  Torchy,  that's  all,"  says  I. 
"I'm  ancestors,  forefathers,  head  of  the  house, 
and  everything  else,  all  in  one." 

"  But  your  father,"  she  breaks  in.  "  Surely 
you  can  tell  me — " 

"  Nope,"  says  I.  "  That's  where  I'm  shy. 
Fact  is,  I  got  about  as  much  fam'ly  hist'ry  as  a 
cold  storage  egg." 

"  There  must  have  been  someone  whom  you 
remember,  though,"  she  insists. 

"  Nobody  but  Uncle  Bill,"  says  I,  "and  I 
ain't  dead  sure  he  was  a  real  uncle  at  all.  Any- 
way, he  didn't  take  it  serious  enough  to  pay 
my  board  in  advance  when  he  slid  out  without 
leavin'  any  address;  and,  as  Mrs.  Leary  used  to 
say,  no  genuine  gent  would  have  been  so 
thoughtless." 

"  And  who,  pray,  was  Mrs.  Leary?  "  asks 
Mrs.  Burke. 

"  A  widow  lady  that  kept  furnished  rooms 
down  on  West  9th-st., ' '  says  I.  * '  Mr.  Leary,  he 


314  TRYING  OUT  TORCHY 

was  in  one  of  the  Hook  and  Ladder  companies 
until  a  wall  fell  on  him.  Then  there  was  only 
her  and  Hunch  and  me ;  so  we  all  had  to  rustle. 
It  was  Hunch  got  me  my  first  job  too,  in  the 
W.  U.  T.  district  office." 

"  So  you  were  a  messenger  boy?  "  says  she. 

11  Not  for  long,"  says  I.  "I  couldn't  stand 
the  night  shift.  The  bunch  was  too  tough. 
Confidential  gate  work  suits  me  better." 

"  Gate  work?  "  says  she. 

"  Don't  overlook  the  confidential  part,"  says 
I.  "  That's  where  I've  got  it  on  the  common 
office  boys.  I'm  with  the  Corrugated  Trust  peo- 
ple, you  know." 

' '  Ah !  ' '  says  she.  ' '  And  I  presume  you  earn 
quite  a  nice  salary?  " 

"  It  looks  good  to  me  along  about  three  P.M. 
Saturday,"  says  I,  "  but  after  I've  paid  my 
board,  and  stowed  away  a  week's  lunch  money 
— well,  maybe  you  know  how  it  goes." 

"  Quite  so,"  says  Mrs.  Burke.  "  But  now 
do  you  not  see,  my  dear  young  man,  how  utterly 
absurd  it  is  for  you  to  presume  to — er — to  con- 
tinue coming  here,  for  instance?  ' 

"  On  account  of  my  holdin'  a  job  and  havin' 
mislaid  my  ancestors?  "  says  I. 

1  i  Well,  put  it  that  way,  if  you  choose, ' '  says 
she. 

*'  Why,"  says  I,  "  I  don't  know  as  I'd  ever 
thought  it  over." 


PICKING  UP  A  FRIEND  315 

"  That's  just  the  point,"  says  she.  "  And  I 
want  you  to  think  it  over.  Here  you  are  a — 
a  nobody,  a  mere,  nameless  boy,  working  some- 
where in  an  office,  with  no  history,  no  future; 
and  here  are  Verona — and  Everett.  By  the 
way,  your  meeting  with  Verona  was  an  acci- 
dent, I  presume?  " 

"  Nearly,"  says  I.  "I  wa'n't  givin'  a  party, 
exactly.  It  was  at  a  dance,  and  I  was  subbin'  in 
the  cloakroom." 

11  I  see,"  says  Mrs.  Burke.  "  And  Verona, 
most  likely,  was  amused  at  some  of  your  pert 
speeches?  ' 

"  Maybe,"  says  I.  "  Anyway,  one  of  the 
Percys  reniged  on  a  dance,  and  she  stumped 
me  to  go  on  with  her,  and  I  did  it.  Aunty  had 
her  first  catfit  then.  She's  been  havin'  'em 
ever  since,  whenever  she  runs  across  me." 

"  Absurd  of  her,  to  be  sure,"  says  Mrs. 
Burke;  "  but  it's  her  way.  Don't  you  see, 
though,  that  you  are  only  aiding  a  wilful,  prank- 
ish girl  to  indulge  a  mischievous  whim?  Pure 
thoughtlessness  on  Verona's  part,  of  course; 
but  it  causes  Sally  to  lose  her  temper,  and  it 
has  annoyed  poor  Everett." 

"  Gee!  "  says  I,  "  but  that's  tough  on  Ev- 
vie." 

"  Please  remember  that  my  nephew,"  says 
Mrs.  Burke  reprovin',  "  is  Verona's  social 
equal.  Come,  now — are  you?  " 


316  TRYING  OUT  TOECHY 

Say,  she  had  the  punch  to  put  over  when  the 
time  came.  "What  comeback  did  I  have  to  that? 
Oh,  this  one-man 's-as-good-as-another  stuff  is 
all  right  out  in  the  street;  but  let's  see  you  lug 
it  into  the  parlor.  Honest,  the  way  she'd  led  up 
to  jabbin'  that  question  at  me  caught  me  with 
both  hands  in  my  pockets  and  my  feet  crossed. 

"  Why,"  says  I,  "  I  don't  claim  to  be  any- 
body in  partic'lar,  I  guess." 

' '  There !  ' '  says  she.  ' '  I  knew  I  could  make 
you  see  it.  Not  but  that  you  aren't  rather  a 
bright,  amusing  young  fellow  of  your  kind;  but 
Verona  and  Everett,  of  course,  are  different." 

Which  was  soothin'  news,  wa'n't  it?  I  felt 
like  a  brass  watch  hung  in  Tiffany's  window  by 
mistake.  "  Well,  what  then?  "  says  I. 

"  Why,  now  that  you  understand,"  she  goes 
on,  "  it  seems  to  me  that  your  simplest  course 
would  be  to  write  a  brief  note  to  Verona,  asking 
her  to  return  the  ring.  That  would  put  a  stop 
to  all  this  nonsense  at  once.  Couldn't  you  do 
that?  " 

"  But — but  I  only  let  her  have  it  in  fun,  you 
know,"  says  I,  "  and  I  don't  see  how  I  could 
call  it  in  without — " 

"  It's  the  only  honorable  thing  for  you  to 
do,"  breaks  in  Mrs.  Burke.  "  I've  tried  to  make 
that  clear,  I  think." 

"  Well,"  says  I,  scratchin'  my  head  and  try- 
in'  to  frame  up  some  way  of  dodgin'  such  a  raw 


PICKING  UP  A  FRIEND  317 

deal,  "  I  don't  want  to  stick  around  where  I 
ain't  wanted;  but — but — " 

There  comes  a  crunch  of  tires  on  the  blue- 
stone  driveway,  and  in  whirls  Aunty's  limou- 
sine, circles  in  front  of  the  summer-house,  and 
stops  under  the  porte  cochere.  Aunty  has 
spotted  us,  too.  I  got  a  glimpse  of  her  stiffen- 
in'  up  as  she  swings  by,  and  she  no  sooner  gets 
out  of  the  car  than  she  pikes  straight  for  us. 
There's  someone  else  with  her;  not  Vee,  but  a 
lady  with  copper  red  hair  and  a  heavy  dust  veil 
over  her  face.  She  comes  along,  too. 

You  could  see  the  fire  in  Aunty's  eyes  half  a 
block  off;  but  what  was  the  use  in  my  doin'  a 
back  dive  and  jumpin'  the  fence?  Besides,  as 
long  as  this  ragin'  scandal  was  the  order  of  the 
day,  I  thought  it  might  as  well  be  threshed  clear 
out;  so  all  I  does  is  get  on  my  feet  and  lean 
more  or  less  careless  against  a  post.  Mrs. 
Basil  Burke  has  caught  the  battle  signal,  too, 
and  she  proceeds  to  head  Aunty  off  prompt. 

"  Ah,  back  so  soon,  Sally!  "  says  she.  "  Now 
don't  look  like  a  thundercloud.  Yes,  this  is 
Torchy,  and  he  and  I  have  been  having  a  nice 
chat  together.  He  understands  everything  now, 
and  he's  going  to  be  good.  There!  What  do 
you  think  of  that?  " 

"  Humph!  "  says  Aunty,  glarin'  at  me  sus- 
picious. "  How  does  he  happen  to  be  here?  " 

"  I  invited  him,  Sally,"  says  Mrs.  Burke. 


318  TRYING  OUT  TORCHY 

"  And  I  think  he  was  just  going.  Were  you 
not,  Torchy?  " 

"  I'm  on  my  way  now,"  says  I,  startin'  down 
the  path. 

It  looked  like  that  was  where  it  would  end; 
for  all  Aunty  does  as  I  passes  is  to  give  me  a 
shoulder  shrug  and  the  frigid  stare.  I'd  got 
past  her  safe  enough  and  was  almost  to  the 
drive,  when  I  meets  the  other  lady.  I'd  stepped 
one  side  to  let  her  by,  when  she  stops  sudden, 
kind  of  gasps,  and  drops  a  parasol  she's 
carryin'. 

Course,  that's  my  cue  to  pick  it  up,  hand  it 
back,  and  tip  my  lid  polite.  By  that  time, 
though,  she's  brushed  back  the  veil  and  is  star- 
in'  at  me  harder 'n  I've  been  looked  at  for  some 
time.  And,  say,  I  don 't  know  why,  but  I  didn  't 
mind  her  lookin'  at  me  that  way  at  all.  It  was 
different  from  any  sizin'  up  I've  ever  had  be- 
fore,— kind  of  gentle  and  friendly,  you  know, 
and  maybe  a  little  sad.  Might  have  been  only 
them  big  eyes  of  hers,  though.  Anyway,  I 
guess  I  stared  back;  for,  while  she  wa'n't  what 
you'd  call  a  professional  beauty,  I  expect,  she 
was  worth  lookin'  at.  She  had  a  face  that 
seemed  to  have  something  in  it, — not  the  cold, 
showy  kind,  like  Mrs.  Basil  Burke 's,  but — but 
— well,  diff  'rent. 

We  didn't  say  a  word,  either  of  us,  which 
wa'n't  so  strange  maybe,  and  it  only  lasted  a 


PICKING  UP  A  FRIEND  319 

second  or  so.  Then  I  has  sense  enough  to  lift 
my  lid  again  and  go  along.  Somehow,  I  knew 
she  was  lookin'  after  me,  even  then,  and  I'm 
dead  sure  I  heard  her  call  to  Aunty  and  ask, 
"  Sally,  who  in  the  world  is  that  boy?  "  But 
what  description  Aunty  gave  of  me  I  didn't 
catch.  I  guess  it's  just  as  well,  too. 

And  it's  funny,  ain't  it,  how  deep  a  little 
thing  like  that  can  stir  you  up?  Here  Mrs. 
Burke  had  put  across  a  proposition  that  should 
have  been  enough  to  keep  my  dome  works  busy 
for  the  rest  of  the  day;  but  I  guess  what  I 
thought  most  about  for  the  next  few  hours  was 
this  strange  lady  with  the  sad,  gentle  look  in 
her  big  eyes. 

Between  times  I  chewed  over  Mrs.  Basil 
Burke 's  suggestions  on  what  a  nobody  I  was; 
and,  while  I  couldn't  quite  get  to  the  point  of 
writin'  that  note,  I  could  see  where  it  ought  to 
be  done.  For,  come  to  figure  it  out,  who  the 
blazes  was  I,  anyway?  Trouble  has  got  to  be 
some  sizable  too,  before  I  lug  it  to  the  feathers 
with  me;  but  that's  one  of  the  nights  when  I 
did. 

Even  next  day  I  knew  it  was  there,  knockin' 
around  in  my  belfry,  sort  of  disturb  in'  the 
works.  So  I  was  feelin'  a  little  less  chesty  and 
chipper  than  usual,  with  all  them  rosy  dreams 
of  the  Saturday  before  faded  from  sight.  It 
was  near  lunchtime  when  one  of  the  arcade 


320  TRYING  OUT  TORCHY 

specials  come  up  from  the  ground  floor  and 
says  how  there 's  a  lady  out  front  in  a  taxi  ask- 
in'  for  me. 

"  Gee!  "  thinks  I.  "  Vee  bringin'  back  the 
ring!  ' 

But  it  wa'n't.  It's  the  lady  with  the  copper- 
colored  hair.  She's  watchin'  through  the  open 
cab  window,  and  as  I  comes  out  to  the  curb  she 
smiles  real  friendly. 

"  You'll  not  think  me  merely  curious,  I 
know,"  says  she,  holdin'  out  one  hand,  "  but 
•Mrs.  Burke  has  told  me  something  of  your 
story,  and  I  want  to  ask  if — if —  You  said 
there  was  an  uncle,  didn't  you?  " 

"  Why,  yes,"  says  I.  "  As  I  remember,  I 
called  him  Uncle  Bill." 

"  But  his  full  name!  "  says  she  eager. 
"  What  was  it?  " 

"  Seems  to  me  it  was  Hayes,"  says  I, 
"  Hayes  or  Haines,  or  something  near  that." 

"  Then — then  it  cannot  be,"  says  she,  sighin'. 
' '  Oh,  pardon  me !  I  mean  that  I've  made  a  mis- 
take. I  thought,  perhaps —  But  that  doesn't 
matter.  Thank  you  so  much,  Torchy!  I — I 
wish  it  could  have  been.  I — I  think  I  like  you, 
you  know." 

And  me — well,  I  guess  I  was  some  fussed. 
"  I  don't  kick  any  on  that,"  says  I.  "  I  guess 
you're  all  right,  too." 

"  Which  makes  us  friends  then,  doesn't  it!  " 


PICKING  UP  A  FRIEND  321 

says  she.  "  But  listen;  my  home  is  abroad.  I 
am  on  my  way  to  the  steamer  now.  Here,  here 
is  a  card  with  my  Paris  address.  If  you  should 
learn  anything  more  of — of  your  father,  or  of 
this  uncle,  or  if  you  should  need  help  of  any 
kind,  or  advice,  I  want  you  to  promise  to  write 
tome.  Will  you?  There,  then!  And  good-by, 
Torchy!  Good-by!" 

With  that  I'm  left  standin'  there  on  the  side- 
walk, gazin'  after  the  taxi  and  holdin'  her  card 
in  my  hand. 

The  worst  of  it  all  is,  though,  that  I'm  still 
askin'  myself,  What's  the  answer?  I  ain't 
goin'  around  talkin'  about  it  much,  though. 
Someway,  I  feel  like  keepin'  it  to  myself  until 
I  can  think  it  out.  I  did  sound  Mr.  Robert,  to 
see  if  he'd  ever  heard  of  the  name  on  the  card. 
He  hadn't.  There  was  nothin'  left  but  for  me 
to  call  up  Mrs.  Basil  Burke  on  the  'phone  and 
ask  her.  That  took  some  nerve;  but  I  did  it. 

"  A-ha!  "  says  she.  "  So  here,  is  someone 
else  who  is  curious.  Well,  Torchy,  I  shall  be 
pleased  to  tell  you  all  about  her — when  I  hear 
that  you  have  asked  Verona  to  return  your 
ring.  Will  that  be  to-morrow1?  ' 

' '  No, ' '  says  I,  ' '  nor  the  day  after,  either. ' ' 

11  Why,"  says  she,  "  I  thought  you  under- 
stood that — " 

"  Sure  I  do,"  says  I.  "  I'm  a  bright,  amus- 
in'  sample  of  one  of  the  lower  orders  that  has 


322  TRYING  OUT  TOECHY 

almost  human  instincts.  I  can  be  joshed  along, 
or  led  on  a  string;  but  when  you  try  to  club 
me  into  doin'  a  thing,  I'm  apt  to  balk.  Nix, 
Mrs.  Burke— it's  all  off !  " 

And,  havin'  unloaded  that  from  my  chest,  I, 
hangs  up.  Was  it  a  boob  play?  Am  I  lettin^ 
myself  in  bad  all  round?  You  can  search  me. 
I  wish — well,  I  wish  that  steamer  of  hers  had- 
n't sailed  yet.  Somehow,  I'd  kind  of  like  to 
put  it  all  up  to  her, — you  know,  the  one  with 
the  gentle  eyes. 


CHAPTER  XIX 

HOW  THE  GLORY  BE  CAME  BACK 

SEEMED  kind  of  odd  too,  that  while  I'm  still 
sore  on  this  fam'ly  hist'ry  business,  it  should 
be  Piddie  that  rubs  in  the  salt.  He  was  plan- 
nin'  for  his  vacation  flit  and  givin'  me  the  usual 
long  winded  lecture  on  not  doin'  this  and  bein' 
sure  to  do  that.  It 's  an  annual  mystery  to  Pid- 
die how  the  Corrugated  ever  struggles  through 
the  two  weeks  when  he's  away  every  summer. 

"  All  right,  Piddie,"  says  I.  "  We'll  do  the 
best  we  can  to  keep  the  concern  afloat.  Yes, 
I'll  watch  the  office  supplies  like  I  was  a  plain 
clothes  man  guardin'  weddin'  presents,  and  if 
I  catch  any  of  the  lady  typists  snitchin'  pencils 
or  carbon  sheets  I'll  wire  you  at  once.  By  the 
way,  will  just  Newport  fetch  you?  ' 

"  We  are  going  West,"  says  Piddie  impor- 
tant. "  Out  to  Ohio." 

11  Gee!  "  says  I.  "  Way  out  there?  What's 
the  idea?  " 

11  I've  been  asked  to  attend  a  reunion  of  the 
Piddie  family,"  says  he,  swellin'  up  chesty. 

"  You  don't  mean  it!"  says  I.  "Then 
there's  others  like  you?  How  many,  now?  " 

323 


324  TRYING  OUT  TORCHY 

"  Over  three  hundred  invitations  have  been 
sent  out,  I  understand,"  says  he.  "  That  em- 
braces the  twelve  known  branches  of  our  family 
in  this  country.  There  will  be  representatives 
present  from  England  also,  one  of  them  a  mem- 
ber of  the  House  of  Commons.  We  trace  our 
line  back,  you  know,  to  Sir  John  Piddie,  who  in 
the  16th  century  was  knighted  for — " 

Say,  if  Mr.  Robert  hadn't  rung  the  desk 
buzzer  just  then  I  expect  I'd  been  loaded  up  with 
enough  Piddie  genealogy  to  have  filled  a  book. 
As  it  is  I'm  sent  out  on  an  errand,  wonderin' 
why  it  is  some  has  their  ancestors  all  card  in- 
dexed, while  others  have  lost  theirs  in  the  shuf- 
fle. There  was  Vee  and  Sappy  AYestlake,  that 
could  tell  you  where  their  folks  was  all  planted. 
Even  a  pinhead  like  Piddie  could  roll  off  the 
lineage  stuff.  And  me,  I  couldn't  go  any  fur- 
ther back  than  a  possible  Uncle  Bill. 

That  accounts,  I  expect,  for  my  huntin'  up 
Hunch  Leary  the  same  evenin'  and  trailin' 
along  home  to  supper  with  him.  He's  got  a 
new  job,  Hunch  has,  you  know.  Uh-huh! 
Started  in  by  buyin'  up  a  few  choice  grandstand 
seats  for  some  of  the  big  ball  games,  and  now 
he's  shook  the  messenger  uniform  and  is  a  reg'- 
lar  pavement  broker.  You  can  see  him  any 
night  out  on  Broadway,  with  his  fist  full  of 
dollar  bills  and  orchestra  centers,  and  a  house 
diagram  under  his  arm. 


HOW  THE  GLORY  BE  CAME  BACK    325 

Quite  a  hot  sport  he's  gettin'  to  be,  too.  I 
discovers  also  that  Mother  Leary  ain't  Mrs. 
Leary  any  more,  but  Mrs.  Connolly,  havin'  an- 
nexed a  coal  and  ice  dealer  who'd  been  a 
widower  quite  some  time  and  had  a  couple  of 
half-grown  kids  of  his  own. 

"  Then  there's  little  Bub,"  explains  Hunch, 
"  who's  arrived  since  the  new  deal,  so  we  got 
some  mixed  f am  'ly. ' ' 

"  Don't  kick  on  that,"  says  I.  "  You  know 
where  they  all  came  from,  anyway." 

And  Mother  Leary  that  was  seems  glad  to 
see  me.  She's  put  on  some  weight  since  she 
quit  runnin'  a  boardin'  house,  and  she's 
bloomed  out  with  a  lot  of  new  hair.  She  ain't 
forgot,  though,  how  to  dish  up  corned  beef  and 
cabbage  so  they  taste  better 'n  anything  your 
French  chefs  can  put  across.  Maybe  it  was  my 
expressin'  a  few  sentiments  along  that  line  that 
gets  her  in  such  good  humor  after  supper. 
Anyway,  it  looked  like  a  good  time  for  me  to 
chance  openin'  the  Uncle  Bill  topic,  which 
wa'n't  a  favorite  with  her,  as  I  remem- 
ber. 

"  Where  was  it  we  drifted  in  from,  though?  ' 
says  I. 

"  Where,  is  it?  "  says  she.  "  Sure,  and 
that's  more'n  I  ever  knew,  bless  you.  A  wee 
lad  of  four  or  five  you  was  then ;  with  a  hungry 
look  on  your  face,  and  the  eyes  of  you  starin' 


326  TRYING  OUT  TORCHY 

strange  at  everything,  like  you'd  never  seen 
folks  afore." 

11  And  Uncle  Bill,"  says  I,  "  what  was  he 
like?  " 

"  Maybe  he  wa'n't  such  a  bad  lot,  at  that," 
says  she.  "  Only  sort  of  shiftless,  I  guess. 
Nothin'  to  be  proud  of,  I  can  tell  you,  skippin' 
out  that  way,  and  him  three  weeks  behind  in 
his  board." 

"  Never  wrote  back,  eh?  "  says  I. 

"  Not  him,"  says  she. 

11  How  about  unclaimed  baggage!  "  1 
asks. 

"  Precious  little  did  he  come  or  go  with," 
says  she.  * '  And  all  he  left  was  some  little  suits 
of  yours  and  a  few  knicknacks." 

"  What  sort  of  knicknacks?  "  says  I.  "  Any- 
thing with  a  name  on  it?  ' 

"  Never  a  name,"  says  she,  "  and  little  you'd 
want  unless — unless —  Well,  ye  might  as  well 
have  it  now.  It's  a  gold  locket.  I'll  get  it  from 
the  bureau  drawer.  There!  Inside 's  a  pic- 
ture, too." 

It's  one  of  these  plain,  round,  thin  affairs 
and  we  has  to  use  a  table  knife  to  pry  it  open. 
The  picture  was  a  dinky  portrait  of  a  youngish 
woman  with  big,  dark  eyes  that  sort  of  stared 
at  you  serious. 

"  The  hair's  painted  red,  see?  "  says  Mother 
Leary.  "  That's  why  I  thought  it  might  be  of 


HOW  THE  GLORY  BE  CAME  BACK     327 

some  relation  of  yours.  Don't  remember  any 
such  face,  do  you?  ' 

"  No,"  says  I,  "  and  yet —  Well,  it  most 
seems  as  though  I'd  seen  it  somewhere,  too." 

"  Very  like,"  says  she,  "  when  you  was  a 
;  little  shaver.  Ye  may  keep  it.  It  may  come 
back  to  ye." 

But  it  hasn't,  though.  Every  night  for  a  week 
I  took  a  look  and  tried  to  remember,  but  I 
couldn't  get  it  any  clearer.  And  there  I  was, 
as  far  from  bein'  able  to  give  my  pedigree  as 
ever. 

Just  about  then  I  had  what  I  call  one  of  my 
mornin'  hunches.  You  know  'em,  don't  you? 
Hits  you  when  you  first  roll  out,  clear  and 
hard,  and  sort  of  gives  you  a  new  angle  on 
things  all  in  a  flash.  You  wonder  too,  why  you 
never  saw  'em  that  way  before.  My  hunch  was 
like  that. 

"  Huh !  "  thinks  I.  "  What's  the  use  bother- 
in'  about  a  fam'ly  tree,  unless  it's  the  kind 
that  has  real  estate  parcels  and  bunches  of 
dividend  bearin'  stocks  hangin'  from  the 
]  branches?  Look  at  Piddie,  tracin'  clear  back  to 
Sir  John,  and  never  gettin!  a  cent  out  of  it. 
Seems  like  my  play,  with  no  help  from  behind, 
is  to  enter  as  an  unknown  and  qualify  in  the 
young  plute  class.  That's  a  detail  I've  been 
neglectin'." 

And  say,  that  was  the  great  thought  I  lugs 


328  TRYING  OUT  TOECHY 

down  to  the  office  with  me  that  mornin'. 
Course,  I  wa'n't  worryin'  but  what  I  could  do 
it,  for  I'd  seen  too  many  boneheads  who'd  won 
out  without  half  tryin'.  And  here  I  was,  right 
next  to  the  big  money  bunch,  and  one  of  the  in- 
siders, as  you  might  say,  of  an  aggregation  that 
had  to  run  four  sets  of  books  to  keep  track  of 
all  the  profits  and  make  the  common  stockhold- 
ers think  they  was  gettin'  a  square  deal.  Who 
had  a  better  chance,  I'd  like  to  know?  Maybe 
some  would  have  thrown  out  hints,  or  sprung  it 
on  the  firm  gradual.  But  that  ain't  my  style. 

"  Mr.  Robert,"  says  I  next  mornin',  "  hadn't 
we  better  be  lookin'  around  for  some  first  class 
man  to  fill  my  place?  ' 

"Why,  Torchy!'1  says  he.  "You're  not 
thinking  of  leaving  us,  are  you?  " 

"  Nothing  so  raw  as  that,"  says  I.  "I'm 
ready  to  be  taken  in,  that's  all." 

"  Ready  to  what?  "  says  he,  starin'  sort  of 
puzzled. 

"  Oh,  to  have  my  name  go   on  the  letter 
heads,"  says  I.    "  Course,  this  office  boy  snap 
has  been  all  right  for  a  time,  and  I  ain't  regis-j 
terin'  any  kick  on  the  way  I've  been  used,  but 
I'm  ripe  for  something  fatter  now." 

"  Oh!  "  says  he.  "  You'd  like  to  be  pro- 
moted? " 

"  Say,  that  don't  cover  it,  not  near,"  says  I. 
"  It  ain't  being  moved  up  a  peg  or  two  that  I'm 


HOW  THE  GLORY  BE  CAME  BACK  329 

strikin'  for.  What  I'm  plannin'  is  a  broad 
jump,  from  the  brass  rail  here  into  a  room  of 
my  own,  with  my  title  on  the  ground-glass  door 
and  a  whack  at  the  dividends.  Get  the 
scheme?  " 

"  By  degrees,"  says  he.  "  It's — it's  rather 
sudden,  isn't  it?  " 

"  Most  everything  good  comes  that  way," 
says  I. 

"  True,  very  true,"  says  Mr.  Robert.  "  But 
— er — what  particular  office,  Torchy,  do  you 
think  you  would  like?  ' 

"  Oh,  I  ain't  picked  out  anything  special," 
says  I;  "  but  you  know,  Mr.  Robert,  there's  a 
lot  of  dubs  holdin'  down  cinch  jobs  here  that 
ain't  any  more  use  than  a  ham  sandwich  at  a 
Chamber  of  Commerce  dinner.  I'll  leave  it  to 
you  which  of  'em  needs  the  fresh  air  worst. 
Only  I  want  to  break  into  this  high  finance  thing 
right  off." 

*  *  H-m-m-m !  ' '  says  he.  ' '  You  don 't  mind 
my  consulting  the  Board  first,  do  you?  ' 

"  Not  a  bit,"  says  I.    "  Make  it  as  regular  as 
you  like,  so  long  as  it  ain't  held  up  more'n  a( 
week  or  two." 

"  Ah,  thank  you,  Torchy,"  says  he.  "  And 
in  the  meantime — er — will  you  kindly  fill  this 
inkwell  for  me?  " 

It's  a  jolly,  all  right.  Don't  get  the  idea  I 
ain't  hep  to  that.  I  ain't  been  with  the  Cor- 


330  TRYING  OUT  TORCHY 

rugated  two  years  with  blinders  on,  and  when 
I  see  Mr.  Eobert  straighten  out  his  mouth  and 
work  up  wrinkles  in  his  eye  corners,  I  know 
he  thinks  he's  passin'  out  something  comic. 

But  that's  what  I  was  lookin'  for.  It's  a 
heap  better  openin'  than  go  in'  on  the  carpet 
with  your  toes  twisted  and  stutterin'  out  how 
you'd  like  a  little  raise  if  it  was  convenient. 
How  should  the  boss  guess  how  good  you  are 
unless  you  think  it  out  first  for  him  yourself? 
Old  Chris  Columbus  didn't  wait  for  someone  to 
pat  him  on  the  back  and  tell  him  he  was  a  great 
discoverer,  did  he?  He  hired  a  band  and  went 
around  shoutin'  it  out,  and  when  it  come  to  a 
show-down  he  made  good.  That's  the  way  I  felt 
about  starrin'  myself  for  a  roll-top  job  with  the 
Corrugated.  I'd  got  to  the  point  where  I 
wanted  something  juicy  in  the  salary  proposi- 
tion, and  I  was  makin'  my  play  along  lines  I'd 
tried  out  before. 

But  for  once  the  system  didn't  work.  For  two 
or  three  days  Mr.  Eobert  seems  to  forget  the 
little  plan  I'd  put  up  to  him,  and  then  one  after- 
noon he  comes  in  from  lunch  about  2.30,  feelin* 
contented  and  good  natured  with  himself,  and 
as  he  passes  my  desk  by  the  door  he  has  a  sud- 
den rush  of  memory  to  the  head. 

"  By  the  way,  Torchy,"  says  he,  "  about 
that  application  of  yours  for  the  third  vice- 
presidency." 


HOW  THE  GLORY  BE  CAME  BACK  331 

"  Make  it  second  vice,"  says  I,  "as  long  as 
you're  turnin'  it  down." 

"  Very  well,  second,"  says  he.  "  But,  while 
we  have  not  as  yet  definitely  concluded  that  we 
cannot  avail  ourselves  of  your  offer,  the  matter 
has  heen  temporarily  laid  on  the  table." 

"  Huh!  "  says  I.  "  Hot  air  for  nothing  do- 
ing, eh?  " 

' '  Not  exactly, ' '  says  he.  ' '  As  a  compromise 
however,  I  am  authorized  to  state  that  early 
next  month  a  vacancy  will  occur  in  the  bonding 
department,  and  if  you  care  to  consider — " 

"  Nix,  not,  never,"  says  I.  "No  time  killin' 
job  on  a  long  legged  stool  for  little  Percival. 
I  know  what  that  means — growin'  gray  headed 
on  forty-five  a  month  waitin'  for  someone  to 
die.  Say,  if  that 's  the  best  you  can  do,  you  save 
it  for  some  director's  son,  some  bright  young 
college  hick  that  don't  know  a  stock  quotation 
from  the  marks  on  a  laundry  ticket.  But  I  hand 
in  my  two  weeks'  notice  right  now." 

"  Very  well,  Torchy,"  says  Mr.  Robert. 
"  We  shall  be  extremely  sorry  to  lose  you." 

"  Oh,  you'll  stand  the  blow,  all  right," 
says  I. 

"  May  I  ask  if  you  have  any  definite  plans!  ' 
says  he. 

"  Well,  the  Curb  looks  kind  of  good  to  me," 
says  I.  "  Guess  I  know  the  game  well  enough 
ito  make  a  start." 


332  TRYING  OUT  TOBCHY 

"  Going  to  run  a  shoe-string  into  a  million, 
eh?  "  says  he. 

"  Ah,  no  margin  pikin',  for  me,"  says  I. 
"  Commissions!  And  I've  got  more'n  a  shoe- 
lace to  butt  in  with,  too.  Never  told  you  about 
that  Glory  Be  gold  mine  stock,  did  I?  " 

Mr.  Eobert  pricks  up  his  ears  at  that,  and 
before  we'd  quit  I'd  told  him  all  about  how  I 
come  by  it,  and  had  promised  to  bring  it  up  from 
the  safety  box  so  he  could  look  it  over.  As  it 
happens  I  had  a  chance  to  get  down  there  with 
the  key  that  same  day,  and  before  closin'  time  I 
lugged  the  stuff  in  to  him. 

"  Have  you  ever  looked  this  up?  "  says  he, 
after  he's  read  the  giddy  lithograph  clear 
through. 

"  It  ain't  listed,"  says  I,  "  but  the  last  I 
knew  it  was  worth  about  fifteen." 

"  Fifteen  cents  a  ton?  "  says  he,  grinnin'. 

Say,  I  knew  Mr.  Robert  meant  well,  but  that 
got  me  sort  of  huffy. 

"  I'll  put  up  options  on  all  you  can  deliver 
at  ten  a  share, ' '  says  I.  "I  got  that  from  Mr. 
Belmont  Pepper,  and  if  you  knew  him  as  well 
as  I  do  you'd — " 

"  Ah,  but  I  do  know  of  Belmont  Pepper, 
Torchy,"  says  he,  pressin'  a  button.  "  Wait  a 
moment,  I  think  we  have  a  report  on  this  very 
mine. ' ' 

Say,  he  did,  and  it  sure  was  a  crusher.    Noth- 


HOW  THE  GLOKY  BE  CAME  BACK     333 

ing  less  than  an  abandoned  claim  that  had  been 
salted  to  sell  to  suckers  and  was  chiefly  valuable 
to  catch  rain  water  in.  Also  the  expert  goes  on 
to  say  that  Mr.  Pepper  was  wanted  in  four 
states  for  unloading  fake  shares. 

Well,  there  it  was  in  black  and  white,  and 
nobody  had  a  better  hunch  than  me  that  the 
Corrugated  Trust  didn't  carry  any  useless  fic- 
tion on  its  records. 

"  It's  too  bad  to  destroy  such  a  beautiful 
trust  as  yours,  Torchy,"  says  Mr.  Robert,  "  but 
false  hopes  do  not  make  a  very  substantial 
foundation  for  a  career." 

"  Yes,  that's  all  right,"  says  I,  swallowin'  a 
lump  in  my  throat.  "I'm  one  of  the  sucker 
family,  I  guess,  but — but  I  didn't  think  it  of  Mr. 
Pepper.  Say,  he  looked  like  the  real  goods." 

"  So  I  have  been  given  to  understand  by 
others,"  says  he.  "  This  being  the  case,  how- 
ever, I  suppose  you  will  reconsider — " 

"  Not  much,"  says  I.  "I'm  quittin'  the 
office  boy  game  two  weeks  from  to-day.  It's 
time  I  made  a  break  anyway,  and  if  the  Cor- 
rugated ain't  got  a  place  for  me  worth  while, 
then  I'll  use  up  some  shoe  leather  lookin'  for  a 
firm  that  has." 

Maybe  that  sounded  some  chesty  when  I  shot 
it  off,  and  I  judged  Mr.  Robert  took  it  for  the 
real  gritty  article;  but  when  I  come  to  get  out 
of  the  office  that  night,  and  go  off  by  myself  for 


334  TRYING  OUT  TOBCHY 

a  general  view  of  the  situation,  I  didn  't  feel  half 
so  cocky.  Being  chummy  with  the  main  stem, 
and  gettin'  on  chatty  terms  with  nine  per  cent, 
quarterlies  is  all  well  enough  as  far  as  it  goes. 
Cashin'  in  such  friendships  is  different. 

I  didn't  know  how  much  like  a  down-and- 
outer  I  felt  until  I  found  myself  on  a  park 
bench  over  in  Madison  Square,  with  my  chin  on 
my  collar  and  my  hands  in  my  pockets,  just  like 
the  other  no-goods  that  drift  in  there  from  all 
parts  of  the  map.  My  gold  mine  stock  had  been 
shown  up  phony,  my  bluff  at  joshin'  a  salaried 
job  out  of  Mr.  Eobert  hadn't  got  over,  and  in  a 
fortnight  more  I'd  be  out  with  the  banner  chas- 
in'  a  new  pay  envelope.  I'd  look  nice,  wouldn't 
I,  callin'  on  a  young  plutess  like  Miss  Vee? 

1 '  Bah !  ' '  says  I,  lettin '  out  a  grouchy  growl 
and  movin'  over  on  the  bench  as  a  seedy  speci- 
men wearin'  a  blue  shirt  and  baggy  kneed  cor- 
duroy pants  camps  down  alongside  of  me.  He's 
carryin'  an  old  kit  bag  and  as  he  slumps  down 
he  drops  it  careless  on  my  toes.  It  felt  like  it 
was  loaded  with  pavin'  stones,  too. 

"  Ouch!  "  I  squeals.  "  Say,  why  don't  yon 
look  where  you're  dumpin'  your  quarry  sam- 
ples? " 

"  Oh,  I  beg  pardon!  "  says  he.  "I'm  afraid 
I  was  clumsy  about  dropping  my—  Why, 
hanged  if  it  isn't  Torchy!  " 

Course,  in  that  alfalfa  rig,  and  with  all  that 


HOW  THE  GLORY  BE  CAME  BACK  335 

long  hair  and  them  sunburned  whiskers,  it 's  no 
wonder  I  didn't  spot  him  at  first;  but  the  min- 
ute I  hears  that  deep,  smooth  voice,  I  know  it 
can't  be  anybody  else  but  the  one  party  I've 
been  thinkin'  hardest  about  for  the  last  hour 
or  so. 

"  Huh!  "  says  I,  "  Pepper." 

"  At  your  service,"  says  he,  makin'  one  of  his 
old  time  bows  and  then  shovin'  out  the  friendly 
palm.  I  pretends  not  to  see  it. 

"  What's  the  game  now?  "  says  I,  kickin'  the 
bag.  "  Gold  bricks?  " 

"  Why,  Torchy!  "  says  he.  "  This  from 
you!  " 

"  I  know,"  says  I.  "  Last  time  we  met  I 
was  Simple  Zeke  from  Clover  Corners,  and  I 
had  a  swallow  like  an  empty  alligator.  But 
even  the  greenest  of  us  ripens  up  in  time. 
Maybe  I'm  still  verdant  on  the  shady  side  of 
my  nut ;  but  I  'm  dead  onto  you,  Pepper. ' ' 

And  honest,  to  see  the  way  his  jaw  dropped 
and  the  look  that  came  into  his  eyes,  you'd 
thought  I  was  a  false  friend  that  he'd  trusted 
his  watch  to,  and  I  was  showin'  him  the  pawn 
ticket. 

"  I  am  both  pained  and  surprised,  Torchy," 
says  he.  "  Why,  I  thought  we  were  old — " 

"  Sure  we  was,"  says  I.  "  And  the  last  I 
heard  of  you  was  when  we  shook  hands,  right 
over  there  on  the  corner  of  Broadway,  and  you 


336  TRYING  OUT  TORCHY 

gave  me  your  word  about  goin'  West  to  work 
the  Glory  Be." 

"  Well,"  says  he,  "  I  kept  my  word." 

"  Gwan!  "  says  I.  "  It's  a  fake.  I've  read 
the  expert's  report,  and  it  ain't  any  more  a 
gold  mine  than  an  Eighth-ave.  sewer  is  the  Pan- 
ama Canal.  It  never  was  either,  and  you  knew 
it  too,  when  you  made  such  a  flourish  about 
presentin'  me  with  that  stock." 

* '  All  of  which  I  admit, ' '  says  Pepper.  ' '  Yet 
for  nearly  twelve  months  I've  been  out  there 
plugging  away  at  that  same  discredited  hole  in 
the  ground." 

"  You  have?  "  says  I. 

"  Look  at  those  hands,"  says  he,  holdin'  out  a 
pair  of  calloused  lunch  hooks  that  would  have 
done  credit  to  a  Dago  hod-carrier. 

I  i  I  should  say  they  carried  the  autograph  of 
honest  toil,"  says  I. 

"  Perhaps  you  would  like  to  know  why  I  was 
foolish  enough  to  make  such  a  monumental  ass 
of  myself?  "  says  Pepper. 

II  I  ain't  missin'  a  word,"  says  I. 

"  Well,  then,"  he  goes  on,  "  it  was  merely 
because,  in  a  moment  of  gratitude  to  a  certain 
red  haired  youth  who  not  only  helped  me  out 
of  a  tight  box,  but  insisted  in  keeping  a  sublime 
faith  in  me,  I  gave  my  word  of  honor  that  I 
would  go  and  try  it.  Do  you  remember, 
Torchy?  " 


HOW  THE  GLORY  BE  CAME  BACK  337 

Did  I?  Say,  it  was  that  grip  of  Belmont  Pep- 
per's hand  and  the  way  he  looked  me  square  in 
the  eyes  as  he  left,  that  made  it  seem  all  the 
harder  when  Mr.  Robert  sprung  this  expose  on 
me. 

"  Mr.  Pepper,"  says  I,  "  I  take  it  all  back. 
Maybe  you're  the  slickest  ever  and  I'm  still  in 
the  Rube  class,  but  you've  got  me  shinnyin'  on 
your  side  again. ' ' 

"  Thank  you,  Torchy,"  says  he.  "  And  the 
Lord  knows  I  need  it." 

"  Then  the  mine  didn't  pan?  "  says  I. 

"  No,"  says  he.  "I  knew  it  wouldn't;  but  it 
gave  me  something  to  do  and —  Well,  it  kept 
me  from  worse  folly.  Of  course,  I  know  very 
little  about  gold  mining  anyway,  and  perhaps  I 
shouldn't  have  recognized  pay  ore  if  I'd  found 
it.  Just  to  make  sure  though,  I  brought  East  a 
lot  of  the  stuff  and  had  it  tested." 

11  Well!  "  says  I. 

* '  Just  about  gold  enough  in  a  ton  of  that  rock 
to  plug  a  front  tooth  with,  that's  all,"  says  he. 
"  Want  to  see  some  of  the  precious  stuff?  " 

I  looked  over  the  pieces  he  handed  me  and 
then  dropped  'em  back  in  the  bag. 

"  Fine  showing  for  a  year  of  the  hardest 
work  I  ever  did  in  my  life,  isn't  it?  "  says  he, 
bitter  and  sarcastic.  * '  And  such  a  year !  Why, 
I  lived  in  an  old  shack  hardly  fit  to  keep  a  dog 
in,  cooked  my  own  meals,  washed  my  own 


338  TRYING  OUT  TOKCHY 

clothes,  and  went  weeks  without  speaking  to  a 
human  being.  Those  who  did  happen  along 
either  told  me  I  was  a  fool  or  set  me  down  as 
crazy;  all  but  that  chap  from  Bullfrog,  who 
turned  out  to  be  a  card  sharp.  He  just  about 
cleaned  out  what  little  cash  I  had  left.  Hence 
my  present  costume.  You  see,  I  had  to  save 
enough  to  pay  for  the  assay.  Maybe  you'd  like 
to  read  the  report?  Here  it  is,"  and  he  fishes 
a  pink  sheet  out  of  his  hip  pocket. 

*  *  As  you  are  one  of  the  chief  surviving  stock- 
holders, Torchy,"  he  goes  on,  "  I'll  will  you 
that,  and  the  bag  of  specimens,  too.  I'm  done 
with  hard  work  and  the  narrow  path.  I  know 
a  dozen  easy  ways  of  separating  people  from 
their  money;  and  by  the  eternal,  I'm  going  to 
try  some  of  'em  on  again." 

"  Then — then,"  I  begins,  "  that  gumshoe 
post-office  agent,  and  all  them  women  you  was 
being  mobbed  by  that  day,  was  right  ?  You  had 
been  doing  bunk  turns,  eh!  " 

11  My  little  enterprises  do  not  always  have 
the  hearty  approval  of  the  Federal  Govern- 
ment, I  admit,"  says  he.  "  But  haven't  I  tried 
the  other  way,  too?  And  see  what  I've  earned ! 
What's  the  use?  " 

Say,  I  didn  't  know  the  answer.  Only  somehow 
it  seemed  a  shame  that  a  top  liner  like  Belmont 
Pepper  couldn't  use  them  ninety  horsepower 
thought  works  of  his  in  a  game  that  wouldn't 


HOW  THE  GLORY  BE  CAME  BACK     339 

have  him  dodgin'  deputy  sheriffs.  Not  knowin' 
what  else  to  do,  I  took  to  studyin'  the  assay 
office  report. 

"  Say,  Mr.  Pepper,"  says  I,  stumblin'  on 
something  that  puzzled  me,  "  what's  this  item 
here  mean?  " 

"  Don't  ask  me,"  says  he.  "I  read  only  as 
far  as  the  second  line,  about  the  gold  and  sil- 
ver traces.  What  else  do  you  find?  " 

"  Why,  about  this  platinum  yield,"  says  I. 
"  Ain't  that  a  big  percentage?  " 

"  Hanged  if  I  know,"  says  he,  sort  of  care- 
less. 

"  But  I  heard  only  the  other  day,"  says  I, 
"  that  this  platinum  stuff  was  worth  more'n 
gold." 

"  Eh?  "  says  he,  grabbin'  the  pink  sheet. 
"  Why,  it  does  look  as  if  that  fool  assayer 
had  found  a  lot  of  platinum  in  one  of  those 
lumps.  Forty  per  cent.!  Why — why —  See 
here,  Torchy,  what  is  it  they  use  platinum  for, 
anyway?  " 

"  Ain't  it  for  settin'  diamonds  in?  "  says  I. 

"  You're  right!  "  says  Pepper,  slappin'  his 
knee  excited.  "  I  remember,  now.  There  was 
one  vein  that  I  thought  was  silver  at  first,  and 
then  decided  it  wasn't  because  it  was  so  hard. 
Great  Scott!  Why,  there  may  be  hundreds — 
yes,  thousands  of  pounds  of  it  in  that  hole. 
Torchy,  perhaps  we've  struck  it,  after  all. 


340  TRYING  OUT  TORCHY 

Now  let's  see;  I  wonder  if  there  are  any 
more  samples  that  show  it." 

In  another  minute  the  twTo  of  us  has  the  bag 
up  on  the  bench  between  us  and  we're  pawin' 
it  over  excited.  * 

"Whoop!'  says  Pepper,  bringin'  up  a 
chunk.  ' '  Here 's  another !  And  it  is  platinum, 
Torchy;  I'll  bet  a  million  it  is!  " 

"  Maybe  you'll  have  a  million  to  bet,  who 
knows,"  says  I. 

"  We  will,  you  mean,"  says  he.  "  This  is 
an  equal  split,  Torchy,  if  anything  comes  of 
it.  Meanwhile,  let's  calm  down.  It  will  take 
considerable  capital  to  work  this  sort  of  a 
mine,  and  I'm  sorry  to  say  that  my  standing 
as  a  promoter  would  hardly  reassure — " 

"  Then  let  me  handle  the  finance  end,"  says 
I.  "Is  it  worth  a  third  interest  to  get  in  a 
party  that'll  put  up  the  cash!  " 

"It  is  just  now,"  says  he.  "  But  where 
can  you  find  one?  ' 

"  At  the  present  minute,"  says  I,  "  he  ought 
to  be  about  six  blocks  up  Fifth-ave.  from  here, 
playin'  billiards  at  his  club  and  workin'  up 
a  dinner  appetite.  Let's  go  tackle  him." 

So,  while  Belmont  Pepper  waits  around  the 
corner,  I  walks  into  the  club  as  bold  as  brass, 
calls  Mr.  Robert  down  to  the  reception  room, 
and  gives  him  the  whole  tale  from  start  to 
finish.  He  shied  some  at  Mr.  Pepper's  name 


HOW  THE  GLOEY  BE  CAME  BACK  341 

first  off,  but  when  I'd  supplied  all  the  details 
about  how  he'd  given  up  the  mine  as  a  bad 
job,  and  how  it  was  me  first  discovers  the 
platinum  item,  Mr.  Robert  begun  to  get  inter- 
ested. He  read  the  report  all  through,  and  held 
the  specimens  under  a  readin'  glass,  and  finally 
I  was  sent  out  to  tow  in  Belmont  Pepper. 

All  that  seems  like  it  happened  ages  ago, 
though.  Must  have  been  a  week  anyway,  for 
it  took  two  days  before  Mr.  Eobert  could  get 
a  private  report  of  his  own,  and  the  third  day 
we  spent  organizin'  the  company;  and  here  I 
am,  the  big  boss  and  actin'  head  of  the  Glory 
Be  Platinum  Company,  even  if  I  am  doin'  it 
under  a  guardian  act  which  Mr.  Eobert  said  he 
was  proud  to  apply  for. 

But  you  should  have  seen  Belmont  Pepper 
just  before  he  caught  the  Chicago  Limited  yes- 
terday on  his  way  West. 

"  Gee!  "  says  I.  "  You  don't  look  like  you 
was  goin'  out  to  start  a  mine.  You're  cos- 
tumed to  open  a  pink  tea." 

* '  I  know, ' '  says  he, ' '  but  the  fact  is,  Torchy, 
after  wearing  a  flannel  shirt  for  twelve  months, 
I  couldn't  resist  the  flossy  raiment.  And  by 
the  way,  young  man,  you  are  not  so  shabbily 
tailored  yourself  to-day.  Why  the  frock  coat 
during  business  hours?  " 

"Ah,  say!"  says  I.  "It'll  be  4.30  soon, 
won't  it?  And  if  I'm  due  to  call  on  a  young 


242  TRYING  OUT  TOECHY 

lady  at  5.15,  what  would  I  be  wearin' — jumper 
and  overalls,  eh?  So  long  as  I  cut  out  the  spats 
and  the  walkin'  stick,  don't  you  worry." 

"Was  it  Miss  Vee?    Well,  say,  who  was  it  I 
made  my  big  plunge  for,  anyway? 


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